


So She Did

by Breakmyheartwinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Death, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Mental Health Issues, Sex, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 01:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18419768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breakmyheartwinchester/pseuds/Breakmyheartwinchester
Summary: Imagine Sam and Dean's dreams get to come true. Story title taken from the quote, "She believed she could so she did." Dean x OC





	1. Chapter 1

"Come on," Natalie muttered under her breath, her eyes scanning for open spaces in the parking lot of her apartment building. Her shoulders were tensed and her hands gripped her steering wheel so tightly, her knuckles were turning white. She had been on edge ever since she left work. An older man, late sixties, early seventies perhaps, known to most of the waitresses at Uncle Pat's diner as "Creepy Jim", had sat in a booth for several hours, drawing on napkins, drinking multiple pots of coffee, and casting leery glances at Natalie and her best friend, Stacia. When he had walked in, they had both walked as quickly as possible to the back to have a 'Rock-Paper-Scissors' battle over who would be waiting on him. After a round of best two out of three, Natalie had grudgingly agreed to wait on Creepy Jim if Stacia would take care of cleaning everything behind the bar once they closed. Two hours of feeling incredibly unnerved later, he had finally slipped out. Natalie had been so thankful that he was gone that she didn't even mind that he left without paying his bill. But when she stepped over to clean up his table, he had left several of his napkins behind. There were very crude drawings of her and Stacia. Disgusting. Quickly, she swept them off the table and into the trash, trying desperately to get the images out of her mind.

She and Stacia had spent the next hour cleaning the diner, refilling canisters and bottles, wrapping silverware for the next morning, and sweeping and mopping the floors. Natalie volunteered to stay and balance the drawer so that Stacia could leave early; that is, if leaving work at nearly 11:30 pm could be considered early. Stacia, although she typically lived with Natalie, was going home for the weekend. Their other two roommates, Clara and Bonnie, had already headed home for the summer. And as much as Natalie loved her roommates, she was looking forward to spending some time alone. Bonnie had been so busy with the rowing team she was on that they rarely saw her. And when they did, it was normally for about fifteen minutes late in the evening. Clara was going through boyfriend problems, and routinely stayed locked in her room, talking on Skype for hours. Stacia had been Natalie's best friend since middle school, to them it had only made sense to live together when they left for college, and for the most part, it had been a great decision. However, lately, Stacia had been distant. Except for when they were at work, Natalie never saw her, and their rooms were right next to each other. She supposed it had something to do with growing apart, but that didn't make losing her friend any easier.

When Natalie had finished balancing and turned off the lights to the diner, she grabbed her purse from under the bar, and stepped out into the night, keys in one hand, pepper spray in the other. It wasn't that Edmond was a dangerous city, per say. It was that there were things that lived in the night that she didn't trust, and she wasn't about to leave herself defenseless. When she had moved to Edmond, her father, a police officer with 45 years of experience, had given her pepper spray, and asked that she not be alone too late into the evening. If he knew that she was walking out of her work past midnight alone, he'd be extremely unhappy with her. Which was precisely why she didn't tell him she did this on a regular basis. She got better tips when she worked later in the evening, and it made her feel important to get to close everything up for the evening.

Her senses were in overdrive as her eyes attempted to adjust to the dark. She had read once that fear caused all of the human senses to peak. It was cool; just cool enough to make her wish she had a jacket. Her shoes crunched across the gravel, and when she was a mere four or five feet from her car, she thought she heard someone behind her, crunching in the gravel. Breathing down her neck. Watching, waiting. Spinning on her heel, she searched the darkness, letting out a deep sigh when she didn't see anyone. Turning back to her car, Natalie unlocked the door as quickly as she could, slipped in to the seat, slammed the door shut, and locked it, all in one fluid motion. Letting out a sigh of relief, she dropped her bag in the passenger's seat, digging out her cell phone, and turned to put her keys in the ignition when there was a tap at her window. Letting out a blood-curding scream, she realized who was standing outside her window and felt her rage boil over. Creepy Jim. "Go away!" she yelled through the closed window. "I'm calling the cops." When she began unlocking her phone, Creepy Jim held up his hands in defense and backed away, defeated. Letting out a frustrated grunt, she dropped her phone in the cup holder, started her car, and had spun out of Uncle Pat's Diner parking lot in a cloud of dust and spinning tires.

And now she was scanning the parking lot of her apartment building desperate for a parking spot anywhere except for the back corner by the trees. Every time she parked there, she got the feeling that she was being watched by someone hiding just out of her line of vision. She knew during the day that the guy that lived above her hung out there. He was pretty harmless. Most of the time he wandered around looking for plants he could smoke. But in the evening, the trees took on a completely different aura. Less of a 'hang out and get high' and more of a 'something's here that shouldn't be' type feeling. But lo and behold, this seemed to be the evening that the only open space was centered directly in front of the densest portion of the trees.

Hesitating, Natalie almost considered parking out on the street instead of the parking lot. Then with a soft laugh at how ridiculous she was being, she pulled into the available spot and shut her car off. Stooping to retrieve her purse and phone, she stepped out of the car, locked her doors, and turned down the sidewalk towards her apartment.

Instantaneously, she felt it again. Eyes watching her close and lock her door and start the long walk towards her apartment. Turning slowly to face the trees, her heart beating furiously, she blinked in the dark, trying to get her eyes to adjust more quickly. It was oddly silent. No birds, crickets, lightening bugs...Just the occasional rustle of leaves. Something was in those trees and she wasn't going to wait around to find out what it was. Turning quickly, she walked with a quick clip towards her building, her heart pounding in her throat. Natalie stepped under the single light post in the parking lot, thankful for something to illuminate the space around her. Pausing to catch her breath, or rather to remind herself to breathe, she stepped forward. As she did, the light post flickered and died. A terrible sense of foreboding filled her body. Natalie slipped her keys between her fingers, making sure one was her house key to make entry quicker. Walking as quickly as she could, Natalie watched the ground. The last thing she needed was to trip and fall, making her an easier target for whatever was out there.

As she stepped off the sidewalk and towards her apartment, she froze, fear gripping her chest. There were two children standing in the grass outside her apartment, facing the windows. Taking several deep breaths, she tried to let the fear ebb away. They were children; young teens at most. They weren't going to be able to hurt her, and if she was going to be a teacher someday, the fear of children thing would have to go. Natalie tried to play off her fear as them surprising her. But she knew better. Something wasn't right about them. Two children around ages ten and thirteen standing out in the grass past midnight? They definitely didn't live in this complex, she knew that much. Maybe they were lost? Before she could speak, the two turned around. Both boys, the older one had dark hair and was clothed in jeans and a blue t-shirt. The younger one was blonde and in jeans and a white shirt. They were both incredibly pale, and stared at Natalie as if seeing through her. As an education major, her immediately instinct was to help them. Children, obviously in need, standing outside past midnight. But something just didn't feel right. And her father had always taught her that if she ever felt uncomfortable, to leave.

Fight or flight instinct kicked in and Natalie began edging towards her front door, her hands shaking furiously. Making sure to keep her eyes on the boys, she was just about to unlock the door when she felt a pulling urge to let them inside. It was then that she looked at their eyes. Fear rippled through her body and her senses went into overdrive. She was clawing at the door trying desperately to get it open, her hands shaking so hard she could barely get her key in the lock, all while trying to keep an eye on them. Their eyes were entirely black. No pupils or irises. No white, brown, blue, or green. Just black. As she got the door open and stepped inside, Natalie turned to swing it shut and froze, the two boys standing directly outside her door.

"We need to call our mother. Let us in to use your phone."

But before she could respond with a firm no, there was a flurry of movement out of her right field of vision. Two males came barreling towards her door, one pointing a gun at the two boys, the other yelling for her to get inside and close the door. So much had happened tonight that she stood unable to move, watching the scene unfold. The taller of the two males ran into her apartment, grabbing Natalie by the arm and pulling her into the apartment while the shorter of the two began shooting. Being grabbed by a large male that was now standing in the entrance of her home was enough to snap her out of her shock. Flight was gone. This was her home, and fight instinct was taking over.

Running back towards her bedroom, slip sliding across the rugs, she dove into her room, yanked open the middle drawer of her dresser, and pulled out the gun her father had given her when she moved in. Checking to verify that it was loaded, she turned and snuck back into the hallway, creeping towards where the two had been standing. She tried to remember, in spite of her terror, to calm her breathing and watch for any flurry of movement out of the rooms to her left and right as she made her way to the front of the apartment. As she approached the entrance of the apartment, both men were standing with their backs to her. The two black-eyed boys were gone. And they were stupidly unaware that she was standing behind them, armed. Raising the gun to eye level, she observed how they froze when she clicked off the safety. Then, vaguely aware of the moonlight glinting off the badge engraved in the side of the gun, she said firmly, "Who are you, and why are you in my house?"


	2. Chapter 2

The two men turned slowly, raising their hands beside their heads to show they weren't interested in shooting. The shorter of the two spoke first, "Easy. We're not going to shoot. We're going to put down our guns, okay?"

Natalie held her ground, her dark eyes watching the two seriously, her form locked into place. "Fine. Just don't do anything stupid."

Putting their guns on the ground and rising back to full height slowly, hands still in the air, the taller of the two said carefully, "We're unarmed, okay? So if you could just put down your gun, we'll explain everything. We promise."

Again, her instinct was to fight. She didn't know them, and although they didn't look necessarily frightening, after her incident outside, she wasn't took keen to put the gun away. Her heart was beating so fiercely she could hear it in her ears and feel it in her fingertips. She was terrified, angry, exhausted, and…something she couldn't identify. Something that made her feel incredibly uncomfortable. But looking between the two, she hesitated for a moment, and then lowered her gun. "Okay. But I'm keeping my gun, you two are leaving yours where they are, and you both are going to walk, slowly, into the room on your left, my right. Deal?"

The two nodded and walked slowly, casting side glances at the guns lying in the foyer. Keeping a wary eye on the two she gestured for them to sit on the couch while she sat in the chair directly across from the two. This placed her closer to the door of the room and allowed her to keep a closer eye on the two. Despite the fact that she didn't trust two random men with guns that invited themselves into her home moments after she saw what she imagined were demons of some form, with eyes like that anyway, something in her bones told her to trust them. Their eyes, while not only not black, were clear and kind. A little worried, a little concerned, but honest.

Sinking slowly into a chair, her eyes flit between the two, eventually resting on the shorter of the two. Not to say they weren't both cute, but him…His eyes. The most beautiful shade of green she had ever seen. Shaking her head to better focus, she said acidly, "Names? Please." Damn her politeness. The taller of the two spoke cautiously, hesitantly.

"I'm Sam Winchester. This is my older brother, Dean. We're hunters."

"Hunters?" she asked quickly, her eyes flashing sharply, "Were you after those…things? The ones that looked like children? Because I don't know what they are, but they're not kids."

The two exchanged a knowing glance before the older one, Dean maybe, spoke. "You're right. They're not children, they're demons. Kind of. They're a specific type of demon."

The taller one spoke next, "They're more commonly known as Black-Eyed-Kids, or BEK's. There have been reports about them all across the country, and we don't know a lot about them, but what we do know is that they have to be summoned, and they're usually summoned by someone wishes to…harm someone else. And as much as we'd love to talk about this right now," the two exchanged looks again, "We really need to work on closing off your house, because they'll be back."

A jolt of panic flashed through her body at the thought of those things returning. Closing her eyes for a moment as she tried to process what exactly was going on, she nodded slowly, then more confidently. "Okay. One thing though. Whatever you shot them with made them disappear, right? What was it?"

Dean this time. Their tag teaming was exceptional; clearly this had happened many times. "Rock salt bullets. It doesn't kill them, but it does make them disappear for a bit. Now as lovely as this chat is going, can we  _please_  get a move on?"

Natalie stood quickly, still watching them warily out of the corner of her eye. "Fine, what do we need to do?"

The two men flew into a flurry of motion, calling out to each other for paint, salt, while she stood in the living room, confused and exhausted. Dean hurried back into the room, shoving a bag of salt into her hands. "Here's what I need you to do, princess. Take this salt, put it along entrances of doors into the apartment, and along the windowsill of all windows. Got that?" Natalie nodded and began lining salt along the windows in the living room, moving fluidly through the apartment. Living room to entrance, to dining room, kitchen, each roommate's bedroom, bathrooms, her own room, den area. After the first room or two, in became second nature. Line of salt, check the locks, over and over.

When she was finally done, she returned to the living room where the men were reloading guns and discussing plans, slipping in silently. She felt guilty for threatening to shoot them. Clearly they weren't here to cause any harm. Not to her anyway. Sinking into the chair, her exhaustion creeping up slowly, she dropped her head in her hands for a moment, her eyes falling shut. Sam and Dean got quiet for a moment before Dean sat on the edge of the couch, watching Natalie carefully. Softly, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Natalie," she said without looking up. "Natalie Lyons." Her head was pounding, her eyes were tired, but her body was wired for battle. The fibers of her being were buzzing as she opened her eyes to watch Dean seriously. Sam turned to face her, also dropping to the edge of the couch.

"Natalie, would anyone want to harm you in anyway? Any enemies?"

Without missing a beat, she said seriously, "Jenny."

Another glance. No words were spoken, but they both nodded. It's like they were psychic. If Sam hadn't mentioned that Dean was his older brother, their actions would have indicated they were more like twins to her. Just as she was about to ask what the look was about, Dean said seriously, "Who's Jenny?"

"My mother. Well," she stopped, shaking her head slowly, "My biological mother. We aren't on good terms and she's…crazy."

"Why would your mother want to hurt you?" Sam asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Biological mother, Sam. Not mother. She lost her rights when I was about five, and I didn't talk to her until about…three weeks ago. I told her that she was making me uncomfortable, that I didn't want to talk for a while, and she lost it. Starting screaming curses and insults, told me it wasn't 'her loss anyway', and then said I'd regret it." Natalie paused to look between the two, adding slowly, "I'm guessing the…demon things are what I'm supposed to regret?"

The two men sat back, looks of mild shock lining their features. Silence stretched for a few moments before Sam said hesitantly, "It would appear so. We're going to stay until they show up again, because they will show up again tonight, and then we'll be out of here. Promise."

Natalie glanced between the two before nodding slowly, a sigh escaping her lips. "How do you kill them?"

"That's the thing," Dean said confidently. "We don't know yet. But we do know that they only show up between the hours of midnight and six a.m., they have to be summoned, and they are relentless."

Her eyes fluttered shut again as she shook her hair in disbelief. "What you're saying is that I hang out till six in the morning with you two, while I wait for them to show up to torment me again, and then pray that you figure out a solution for how to get rid of them before midnight tomorrow?"

The two nodded and she groaned. Reaching up to pull her dark hair out of the bun on the top of her head, she let the dark waves cascade around her shoulders. It was going to be a long evening. Dean watched her for a moment, his eyes flicking from her eyes to her full lips, the waves falling around her shoulders, the long fingers brushing strands away from her face. She was pretending not to notice, but the heat crept into her face, coloring her cheeks slightly. "Why don't you get some sleep?" he said suddenly, standing and walking to the window to glance outside for the monsters. "We can take care of it."

Her exhaustion was making her irrational. Sitting up straight with a flash in her eyes, she set her jaw firmly in determination. "Not gonna happen. This is my house. And if I sleep, I won't learn how to protect myself when you two aren't here."

Sam didn't suppress his grin when she spoke, nodding in appreciation. "Great! Grab one of these," he tossed her a gun loaded with rock salt, "And get comfortable. Our guess is that they come and go every hour. Which means we have about ten minutes."

Natalie nodded and checked the gun, familiarizing herself with the feel of the gun. It's weight, where the safety was. As she inspected it, Dean asked casually, "So where'd you learn to aim so well?"

She smiled proudly, lifting her dark eyes to meet his green. Jesus, he was beautiful. "My dad. He's a police officer. The gun," she gestured towards the gun on the side table next to her, the one with the badge etched on the side, "Was a gift when I moved it. It's etched with his badge on the side. It's a 9 mm."

The two nodded in appreciation, clearly impressed with the fact that such a small girl, with a tiny frame, toted a 9 mm with a badge on the side. She was on the cusp of asking for more identifying information about the two, like where did they come from and how did they track the demons to her, when the lights in her apartment flickered. Chills shot down her spine and the tiny hairs at the back of her neck prickled. "That's them," she said confidently, her voice soft. "The lights outside did the same thing the first time."

Neither one answered, but their demeanor had changed. Their eyes were sharp, scanning the outside for a sign of movement. Their bodies were tense, their faces serious. Joining the two by the window, reaching over to flip off the light on her way, she knelt in front of the window, her eyes just over the edge of the sill. There was nothing, and then in the millisecond it took her to blink, there they were. She froze for a moment, and then when she heard the command, one of the two, she couldn't tell which voice was which yet, she lifted her gun and fired. There was a hailstorm of rock salt bullets, and they were gone again.

Leaning back on her heels, she felt her chest heave as she tried desperately to suck in breath. Her head began to spin as Dean knelt beside her, resting a heavy hand on her shoulder, "Hey, Natalie, come on, breath. Deep breaths, it's okay. In and out."

She focused on his voice, matching her breaths to his words, dropping her head in her hands. After a few moments of silence, the sound of her heavy breathing filling the room, she laughed bitterly. "Is this how I'm going to die? A panic attack?"

Dean chuckled, shaking his head slowly. "No chance. Come on." Hauling her to her feet, he gestured for her to follow him to the kitchen. Helping her into a chair at the table, he began opening cabinets.

Natalie watched him for a moment before saying softly, "Cabinet to the left of the sink."

He grabbed two glasses, filling them with ice and water, before setting one in front of her and taking a seat across the table from her. "I would've grabbed you a drink, but you appear to live in a dry house."

She grinned, taking a sip of the water, before saying simply, "No. I just finished it off last night."

Dean's laugh bounced off of the cabinets, reverberating in her ears. Already, after a mere hour or so with him, she already wanted to do everything she could to keep making him laugh. The way his eyes sparkled, and his face lit up…Looking down quickly at her hands she kicked herself. She didn't know him. Clearly, he was telling the truth about being a hunter, but for all she knew, he hunted more than just monsters, serial slept with women on random cities, and was going to walk into her home (literally), charm her, and disappear in a week. And she wasn't about to let that one happen.

"Where are you guys from, anyway?" She asked suddenly, doing anything possible to keep her mind off of the demons and the man across the table from her.

"We travel a lot. Not really from anywhere," he said simply, his face serious. He was guarding himself carefully.

"Not what I asked, Dean Winchester," she retorted, matching his seriousness.

He hesitated for a moment, and then said carefully, "Lawrence. Kansas."

"Keep Lawrence Weird!" she said happily, her eyes sparkling brilliantly. "That's their motto, and I think it fits wonderfully. Which makes sense why you're from there, because this whole thing," Natalie gestured around the kitchen at the salt everywhere, "is very, very weird."

The two sat in the kitchen for the next several hours, Dean leaving at the top of each one to help Sam with warding off creepy children. When six am finally came, Natalie was so tired, she swayed on her feet when she stood to face Sam and Dean. As the two gathered their weaponry, and began loading the gorgeous '67 impala parked right where she had wanted to park last night, she stood anxiously at the front door. They had plans to visit Oklahoma State University to do some research over banishing the suckers, but confirmed that they planned to reside in Edmond and would be back later this evening for round two.

Natalie nodded and started towards the back of her apartment, and as she did, passing the salt and traps around the residence, she felt her panic building. Her roommates were going to be gone for the rest of the summer. She would be alone, and the thought gripped her chest with fear. Turning on her heel and sprinting to the front door, she flung it open, skipping out to the sidewalk, desperate not to appear desperate.

"Where are you two staying?" she asked, resting her hands on her hips in an attempt to appear in control and casual and not at all frightened of staying home alone.

They glanced at each other and shrugged before Sam said, "Probably at the motel at the edge of town."

"Would you-" Natalie paused, sucking in a deep breath.  _Just ask,_  she chided herself. "Would you two want to stay here? There's plenty of room, and whenever I cook, I cook for an army so you wouldn't have to worry about eating out. There's wifi and cable, and I have to go grocery shopping anyway, so there will be beer later tonight, and I would just really appreciate it if you guys said yes."

And then breathlessly, she glanced between the two, hoping against hope that they wouldn't laugh at her instead. There was a moment of silent deliberation between the two that ended in shrugs from both before Dean nodded in confirmation, "Why not?"

So with a sigh of relief, a brilliant smile, and plans to meet back here at three in the afternoon, Natalie reentered her apartment, shut and locked the door behind her, and collapsed on her bed, fully clothed in her work uniform, dreaming of a perfect smile and green eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied/referenced child abuse

Natalie woke up seven hours later with crick in her neck and a foggy memory. Rolling over, she sat up, rubbing her eyes. Yesterday, she got up early, went on a run, worked a double shift, got the hell scared out of her while sitting in the parking lot of her work, drove home, got the hell scared out of her in the parking lot, had two gorgeous men invade her home, then spent the entire night in and out of panicking before passing out on her bed, fully clothed.

So what did all of this mean? The demon children thing was off-putting. She couldn't quite grasp how someone was able to summon demons and use them to attack someone else. Summoning demons, she had heard about; it was in every teen horror movie. But she always just assumed they'd turn around and attack the summoner. What she needed to do now, was research.

True, she knew that's what Sam and Dean were already doing, but she wouldn't be able to relax until she knew a bit more about what was going on. Not being in control was not okay with her. Leaning over the side of her bed to scoop her laptop off the floor, she started at the most logical place. Google, "demon children, summoning". The results were a variety of funny stories about people comparing their crazy kids to demons and a book titled "The Summoning". But towards the bottom, there was something that matched both results. It was a site dedication to different rituals in different religious. And the spell to summon demon children included some pretty disgusting ingredients. Leaning closer to the screen, as if she was reading it wrong, she whispered, "Femur of an infant, tail of a cat…What the hell?"

Glancing around the room for her phone, remembering she left it on the kitchen table after her talks with Dean last night, she took off running, skidding around the corner. When she picked up her phone, a piece of paper under the phone slid to the ground. Bending over to pick it up, she frowned slightly. It was just a phone number. 785 area code. Kansas. Surely it wasn't…With a mischievous grin, she dialed the number, pressing the phone to her ear. If this was who she thought it was, it was perfect. She wanted to tell him about what she found anyway.

After several rings, the phone was answered with a serious, "This is Dean."

"Dean? It's Natalie. I found something."

"Natalie," Dean said pleasantly.

She tried not to notice how pleased he sounded. How soothing his voice was. How clear it was that Sam was teasing Dean and he was smacking him, trying to get Sam's voice as far away from the mouthpiece as he could. Suppressing a grin the best she could, she shook her head as if to shake the distracting thoughts away.

"Anyway. I just read the spell for how to summon, but I can't find anything about how to get rid of the demons."

"Perfect," Dean said smoothly, as if his brother wasn't just harassing him. "because we just found out how to get rid of the demons. We'll probably head back within the next few minutes or so."

"Great," Leaning back, Natalie let out a soft breath. "Did you guys manage to get any sleep?"

"A bit. We've been trading off on research and sleep. But we're used to it. Four hours is a great deal for us."

"After a few days of four hours for me,  _I_  turn into a demon," she joked, unable to fight back a grin.

Dean laughed, making her smile even wider. "You're cute. See you later, Nat."

And with that, he hung up. Natalie hurried back to her room, dropping on to her bed with a grin. She was acting like a middle school girl, and she knew it, but she couldn't help it. Dean Winchester, with the gorgeous green eyes, the brilliant, perfect smile, the freckles across his nose, the compassion for a terrified girl called her cute. And Nat. She was head over heels already and she had just met him.

Unlocking her phone, she dialed Stacia's number, waiting while it rang. When Stacia answered, Natalie hurried to speak first, "Stace. Hey, listen. I unexpectedly have a few friends staying for a bit. Like a week or two. So I'm going to let them use your room, okay? Yeah, I promise they won't destroy anything. Thanks, you're the best." Before repeating nearly the same conversation with Clara.

Then diving out of bed, a grin still plastered across her face, Natalie stepped in the bathroom flipping on the shower. Undressing slowly, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Tired, dirty, but happy. Confused, hurt, but content. Whoever this Dean guy was, she wanted to keep him around. He just made her happy. Showering quickly and stepping out of the shower, she wrapped a towel around herself and stepped out of the shower just in time to hear a knock on the door. Hesitantly, she edged towards the front door, letting out a sigh of relief when she saw Sam's head peek through the window at the top of her door. Thank Merlin he was so tall.

Unlocking the door and pulling it open with a brief hello, she started back towards her bedroom to get dressed, calling over her shoulder, "I'll be back in a second." And when she looked back and saw Dean's eyes watching her, she blushed furiously.

A few minutes later, she emerged in her favorite sundress. Red, cotton, tied in the back. Her long, dark hair, nearly black when wet, hung down her back in waves. Shutting her bedroom door behind her, she followed the sound of the boy's voices to where they were sitting in the living room. Sam was in the chair she had occupied the night before, Dean was draped comfortably across a chair. She paused in the door taking in the scene, blushing slightly when Dean's eyes fixed on her. " _It's just a crush,_ ' she chided herself.

Dropping down on the couch beside him, she said as confidently as she could, "So who's going first?"

Sam fought back a smirk when she sat down, before gesturing for her to go first. "Let's talk about the summoning before the getting rid of."

"Okay," she hesitated, then began listing the ingredients, fighting the urge to roll her eyes when neither one showed any sign of being surprised. "So clearly this doesn't bother you two. Just me."

"We're just used to it," Dean said casually, drawing out the words. "The only question is where Jenny got the infant femur."  
"Easy," Natalie said quickly, glancing between the two. "Jenny had a younger sister that died when she was just a few months old. She's buried in Tonkawa. Tiny little town in the north central part of the state. For me, the only question is how to get rid of the demons."

At this the boys glanced at each other, their tones shifting instantly from teasing to serious, uncomfortable. Then it was starting contest, as if they were trying to decide who should be the one to break the news. For a moment, she began to think that there was no solution. The demons would continue torturing her until she died. And just as she was starting to panic, Dean spoke, his green eyes fixing on her dark brown.

"She has to die. It's the only option. You die or she does." His face was serious, but there was something else there. Regret? Sympathy? Whatever it was, she didn't like it, and she didn't want it.

With a straight face, she said seriously, "Fine. Just tell me the best way and we'll get it done."

At the look exchanged between the two, she raised an eyebrow, "You didn't really think I'd let you do this on your own, did you? She's my biological mother. I'm going."

Sam frowned, speaking up again, "I still don't understand how your mother could do this."

Natalie stopped herself from rolling her eyes. He clearly wasn't listening very well. "Biological mother. Not mother." Standing, she walked to the far side of the room where the girls had all hung up pictures of their families. Pulling one down, she walked over to Sam, placing it in his hands. "This is my mother. Not Jenny."

When she sat back down on the couch, her eyes flitted between the two and the looks of confusion on their faces. There was a beat of silence before Dean said slowly, "I don't know about Sammy, but I'm confused. Why don't you slow it down and clear it up a little bit?"

Sucking in a deep breath, she let her eyes close for a moment before saying slowly, "Jenny is my biological mother. I was born when she was young. Very young. I lived with her for a few years before she had her rights terminated and I entered the foster care system. I was adopted by my parents when I was five and a half. So when I say that Jenny is not my mother, it's because she never acted like one."

Sam said cautiously, "Why were her rights terminated? Is it something that would cause her to be angry?"

"I doubt it," Natalie said with a snort. "Jenny had her rights terminated after a series of incidents. Neglect and abuse. I swallowed fingernail polish remover while she watched. She would get high and pass out for a while. She left me with her brother who…" she stopped, sucking in a breath. She didn't tell her closest friends all of this. "Who molested me. And then she tried to kill herself with me in the house. So no. Her termination was entirely her fault. She's mad at me because I don't want to be 'friends' with her. She's petty and dramatic. A liar. And now she's trying to kill me."

Actually saying the words, not just thinking them was enough to push Natalie to the brink of tears. Standing quickly, brushing the back of her hand across her eyes, she shook her head in determination, her hair rippling down her back.

"You guys figure out a plan. I'll be back in a second."

And without looking at either one, especially Dean, she stalked out of the room, locking herself in the bathroom where she sank to the floor in a puddle of tears.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts/Descriptions of Self-Harm

Natalie wasn't sure how long she sat on the bathroom floor, her arms wrapped around her knees, her hair falling like a dark curtain around her face. She cried silently, sobs racking her shoulders. As much as she liked to pretend that Jenny didn't affect her, she did. The words she said, the actions she performed, the complete disregard for her children. It was sickening, and upsetting, and depressing. She had learned in her early teenage years that the depressing feeling that was soaking into her bones, the reason she cried for no particular reason, the reason she felt so helpless, was the genetics running through her blood. Depression, anxiety, alcoholism. All in her blood, with no way out.

Finally, after several long minutes, her breathing calmed. She began sucking in deep breaths, willing her heart to slow, her mind to clear. And for some reason, the only way that she could manage to calm down, was to think about cutting. Although she hadn't moved an inch since the moment she locked the bathroom door and sank to the floor, being able to picture in her mind where every sharp object was in the bathroom. Each drawer, the shelf in the shower, the purple leopard print bag under the sink. The way it felt to feel the sting of the razor. The adrenaline that pumped through her body when she saw the cuts across her arms, legs, hips. She hadn't cut in over a year, but the desire tonight was so strong…

But her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.

"Nat? It's Dean. Wanna open the door for me?"

She didn't want to. She wanted to curl in a ball with her sadness and sleep for days. She wanted to pretend that none of this was happening. And more than anything, she didn't want Dean to see her. The embarrassment of being so emotionally distraught, of struggling with self-harm…She'd do anything to keep it a secret from Dean as long as possible. Guys didn't like girls that were emotionally unstable. Especially not guys that were so gorgeous, they could take your breath away with a casual laugh.

But against her better judgment, Natalie unfolded herself from the ball she had curled herself into and unlocked the door for Dean, moving quickly to crawl back to the side of the bathroom and wipe the tears from her face. He entered slowly, his eyes flicking across the bathroom floor. She knew what he was looking for, and the thought surprised her. She just figured that despite his work with the Supernatural, he was like most people she knew. Oblivious to depression and self-harm, unsure of how to handle people like herself that struggled with it. Instead, Dean sat down on the floor as well, his back against the bathroom door.

"You okay?"

She let silence fill the room for a moment before saying softly, without meeting his eyes. "Okay enough."

Dean, however, didn't miss a beat. "Really? Because you don't look okay. You look miserable. And frankly, princess, you look like you're standing on the edge of the cliff with no way out. So why don't you fill me in?"

Raising her eyes from the tiles on the floor to Dean's, she felt her heart sink to the pit of her stomach. He was watching her intently, his face serious. And he was waiting for an answer. Heart beating rapidly, a lump in her throat, she said softly, just above a whisper, "You're right. There's not a way out."

And then, with more confidence, she said a bit louder, "I either kill the woman who gave birth to me, that I don't get along with, that I don't understand, but feel required to accept, or I die. It's not much of a choice, Dean. No matter what I choose, I can't win. And either way, I die in some form. Whether spiritual or physical. And to be completely honest, as thankful as I am for the two of you being here, I will never understand how you manage to wake up every morning and kill creatures that look like humans. I just don't know how I'm supposed to be okay when I'm already not okay to begin with."

Dean's face shifted from concern to something unidentifiable. Confusion, maybe. Pain, definitely. And that was something she couldn't understand. He and his brother were so confident, so smart, and so careful to take care of each other that it was hard to believe that something she said would make him look this way. And when he spoke, each word broke her heart.

"No one's asking you to be okay with this. And we're not asking you to be the one to take care of this. We're more than happy to take care of it ourselves. But you are very, very wrong if you think we make it through this life all peachy. There's not a day that either one of us wakes up that we don't think about someone we've lost in this. Whether on the hunter side or the creature side. If you need confirmation, go ask Sam. Because he's been through more than anyone I've ever met. And he's still pushing on every single day. What you need to remember is that you're not doing this alone. Sam and I are right here, every step of the way. We know what we're doing, we know how to get through this, and we're not leaving you until you feel safe. Okay?"

And finally, the weight that had been getting heavier and heavier began to lessen. There was something about his tone, so honest, so believable, that she couldn't help but trust that he was telling the truth. So finally, nodding slowly, she let out a soft sigh. This was going to be manageable. And as long as she kept her eyes on his, she'd be okay. When he left, she'd have to find something to get her through, but for now, she'd focus on Dean. So when he offered her an arrogant, lazy smile and gestured for her to move in for a hug, she couldn't help laughing softly as she dragged herself across the bathroom floor to collapse in his arms. Perfect fit.

There was something intoxicating about his scent. It was different from the last guy she had hugged. He had smelled safe. Like soap, cologne, and mint. But Dean was a whole new ballpark. He even smelled dangerous. Leather, gunpowder, and whiskey. It's like everything that made him Dean seeped from his pores. And whatever that 'everything' was, she wanted it.

Then standing and offering her hand to pull Dean to his feet, the two exited the bathroom, rejoining Sam in the living room. Sinking to the couch, she locked her dark eyes on Sam's asking softly, "After a rather emotional heart-to-heart with your older brother, I have a question that he says you can answer. And if you'd rather not, I understand. But I don't know how to handle this on my own and I think you could help."

Sam looked from Natalie to Dean and back before nodding slowly. "Sure. Whatever I can do to help."

Sucking in a deep breath, she said softly, "Dean told me that you both have lost people on the hunting and the creature side. But he said that you've been through more than anyone else he knows. Can you explain?"

Sam hesitated, and then said in a cavalier tone, "Well I've died a few times."

The shock registering on Natalie's face was enough to send the two into peals of laughter that echoed down her hallways. Raising her hands for them to quiet down, she said seriously, "You have to be kidding me."

"Not at all," Sam admitted proudly. "Dean, am I lying?"

"Definitely not lying, Sammy."

The surprise of the situation sent Natalie into unexplainable laughter. After everything she had seen in the past twenty-four hours, something about Sam Winchester dying and coming back to life more than once didn't seem entirely out of the question. Then turning and surveying Dean with a wary look, she added, "And you?"

"Yep. Me too."

"What the hell," shaking her head, she laughed. "Okay. You guys win the award for most shocking news I've ever heard. I give up."

Standing, she started out of the room before turning around and saying seriously, "I'm glad you guys are still alive. You being here means a lot to me."

The two nodded in acknowledgement, muttering 'no problems' and 'sures' under their breath. Smiling slightly, Natalie left the room, re-entering with a list.

"So we're going to pretend that I didn't just have a mental breakdown, because I don't like talk about my emotions more than absolutely necessary. So it never happened." Natalie locked her eyes on Dean, waiting for him to nod, then Sam. Then with a bright smile, she nodded curtly. "Great. I need to go to the store. You two are more than welcome to stay here or go with me. There's wifi, cable, a gym close by. It's entirely up to you."

Immediately, she was greeted with two responses at the opposite end of the spectrum. Dean lit up at the word "store" and Sam lit up at the word "gym".

"Guess that answers that question," she muttered, turning to grab her keys from a table in the entry way where she had thrown them last night. Sliding an entry card off her key ring, she caught Sam's eye and tossed it to him. "Address is on the back of the card. Dean, are you ready?"

She needn't have asked. While she was busy getting the gym key off of her wrong, Dean had stood up happily, tossed his keys to Sam, and was standing at her left, as close to the door as possible without actually exiting the room. It was adorable, really. He was acting like a trip to the grocery store was the best thing to ever happen to him. Laughing, she grabbed a small purse hanging from a hook in the entryway, draping it across her body. Waving bye to Sam and asking that he lock the door on his way out, she and Dean walked down the sidewalk she had fled down the night before. Shivering slightly, despite the sunshine and hot Oklahoma air, she pointed out her car and unlocked it, sliding in the driver's seat. Pulling her iPhone out of her purse and plugging it into the cord plugged into the stereo system, she glanced up in time to see Dean roll his eyes.

"Seriously?"

"What?" he said quickly, feigning innocence.

"Don't roll your eyes at me. Just because you drive a gorgeous antique doesn't mean there's anything wrong with my choice in how to play my music."

"Whatever," Dean replied, turning to look out the window so she wouldn't catch him smiling.

"Furthermore," Natalie added as she typed in her passcode and selected a premade playlist, "Driver picks the music."

Dean opened his mouth to argue as she shifted into reverse, stopping when he heard the opening chords to 'Point of Know Return' by Kansas. Frowning, he reached over and grabbed her phone off her lap, scrolling through the list. The look on his face turned from one of defiance and arrogance to surprise and pleasure.

"Kansas, Journey, REO Speedwagon, Metallica, Whitesnake, John Mellencamp, Fleetwood Mac, Van Halen, and Foreigner," Natalie recited as she pulled up to a stop sign. "Surprised or annoyed? I normally receive one of those two emotions in response to this playlist."

"Surprised. Very surprised," Dean responded, smiling slightly. Passing her phone back as she pulled out of the parking lot, he added, "Isn't this music a little before your time?"

"Isn't it a little before yours?" she retorted, smirking. Whatever this was, she liked it. She was going to be disappointed when they left. Falling into an easy conversation about the benefits of listening to classic rock, with her occasional interjection that not everything that was coming out today was terrible, the trip to the store passed quickly.

Once inside, Natalie began filling the cart with produce. Fruit, vegetables, herbs. When she stopped to lift a bag of potatoes into the cart, she turned around and found herself face-to-face with a very smiley Dean, who appeared to be showcasing a pie. Crossing her arms across her chest, she shook her head. "Absolutely not."

Immediately, he pouted. Much like the three-year-old she used to babysit when she told him it was time for his nap. "Please, Nat?"

"No, Dean."

"But I want it."

"But it's full of preservatives and chemicals and is terrible for you."

"You sound like Sam."

"Maybe because Sam's smart?"

"No. You both just love crushing my dreams."

"Now you're just being dramatic."

"But I want it."

"Fine."

Dean had been so prepared to continue arguing, he paused for a moment with his mouth open, then shut it, paused again, then said hesitantly, "Really?"

"Yes, but not that one. I'll make one. It's better that way."

"Really?!" The excitement in his voice was enough to make her laughing, covering her face as she turned bright red. Too adorable.

"What's your favorite?"

"Apple."

Without another word, Natalie strolled over to the apples where she selected several, putting them in a bag and placing them in the cart. Then with a shy smile at Dean, she said carefully, "It's my favorite too. I always make one in the fall, when apples are more in season. Besides, it'll be a nice addition to the dinner I owe you two."

The rest of the shopping trip was made up of Dean asking for food and Natalie telling him no and suggesting healthier options. Much of the trip was give and take. By the time they were at the checkout, they were tripping over each other, talking and laughing, pointing out signs with inappropriately placed quotation marks, such as 'day old "bread"'. Loading the groceries on the conveyor belt, Natalie convincing Dean that he most definitely did not need candy, taking it out of his hand and laughing as he grabbed her around the waist to pull her back so he could reach around her for something else, she didn't notice the way the cashier was watching. When she finally felt he was under control enough she could focus on paying for the groceries, the teen turned the screen so she could better see the total and added casually, "You two are a really cute couple."

Natalie felt her face erupt in a tell-tale blush. As she opened her mouth to stumble over an explanation of how they had actually just met the night before and most definitely were not dating, Dean interrupted and said with a heart-stopping grin, "Thank you. Don't mind her. She's easily flustered. Cute, isn't it?"

Trying her best to suppress a grin, she paid in cash, slipped the change back in her purse and followed Dean out of the store, him pushing the cart he had graciously filled with sacks of groceries. Walking close, she reached over and nudged Dean's arm, offering a flirtatious smile. "Good save, Slick."

"Just add it to my list of redeeming qualities, and commit it to memory."

Rolling her eyes, she helped Dean load her car with groceries, started the car and flipped the air conditioning all the way up as he returned the cart, and plugged her phone back in, cranking Journey so loud, they had to yell to hear each other and her windows shook with every riff. Despite the impending battle that was coming later tonight, the anxiety and stress, the death, Natalie was happy. There was something addicting about Dean Winchester. It was more than just his pretty face. It was his demeanor and his passion and his drive. And the way he called her princess and told the cashier that she was cute. She didn't know what it was about him that she was so attracted to, she just hoped he'd be around long enough for it to develop into something more.


	5. Chapter 5

When they got back to Natalie's apartment, and she was able to snag a parking spot much closer than last night, the two carried the bags of groceries into the apartment, unloading them in the kitchen. Making sure to place her keys and bag by the front door, careful to grab her iPhone for music while she prepared dinner, Natalie began unloading groceries while Dean put them up. It was an easy system, one they fell into without thinking about it or discussing it. Movements between the two were easy, fluid, as if they had been around each other for years, not just a day. As the grocery sacks were put away and Natalie assembled the ingredients and utensils to begin preparing the pie, she said softly, glancing at Dean as she pulled a bowl out from the cabinet below the toaster, "What's going to happen tonight?"

An uneasy silence descended in the kitchen as Dean hesitated. Then seriously, the laughter slipping out of his eyes, he said carefully, "It depends. How far is it from here to where she lives?"

"About an hour or so."

"We'll leave here around nine then," Dean said, glancing at the clock. It was five now. "We'll scope out where she lives, and at some point we'll have to make contact. Preferably before midnight, because if we're trying to fight off demon children and talk to her, it could get much messier than it needs to be."

Standing slowly, she nodded, not meeting his eyes, her heart beating furiously. She didn't want another night of demons. She didn't want a life filled with fear of when Jenny would strike next. She didn't want to spend her nights panicked that something else would show up, this time in her house. She didn't want to relive the memories of her childhood with such anger just because Jenny would tell her she remembered wrong. And she didn't want to kill her.

Moving quickly so she could blink back the tears in her eyes without him seeing, she gathered the remaining ingredients, set her iPhone on a dock station in the corner of the kitchen, and opened the Pandora app. As music filled the kitchen, she turned to Dean with a smile, nodding. "Sounds perfect. I'm going to work on getting the pie made and get dinner ready. You're more than welcome to watch TV, use the wifi, sleep, shower…"

"A shower sounds amazing," he admitted, running a hand over his face.

"Great, I'll show you where the towels are." Thankful for the distraction, she led him to the hall closet, pulling out a thick towel. Then point out the bathroom, adding, "This room is mine, the one next to it is Clara's, the one across from Clara's is Bonnie's, and the one across from mine is Stacia's. You can pick Clara or Bonnie's room. They moved out for the summer. I have spare sheets and blankets in the same closet as the towels."

Then with a brilliant smile, she left Dean to decide what to do with himself and walked back into the kitchen. With shaking hands, she grabbed an apple and began peeling, trying to convince herself not to cry. Pausing, bracing herself against the counter, she sucked in a deep breath. It was going to be okay. It was necessary. Jenny could either call off the demons, or die. Simple as that.

Reaching over to turn up the music, she sighed softly when she heard the opening strains to "The Nearness of You" by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. She could hear the shower start up, and began peeling apples to the beautiful melody. Out the kitchen window, the sky darkened slightly. It looked like rain. The rest of the pie making process went fairly quickly once she got in the groove. Peel, slice, in the bowl. Cinnamon, sugar. Crust, roll it out, in the pan. Fill with filling. Form the top layer. Dust with more cinnamon and sugar, in the oven. The song, by now, had shifted through several different songs, this time landing on "Devil's Backbone" by The Civil Wars.

For the first time, she really heard the lyrics as she sang along softly, leaning over the sink to rinse the dishes. " _Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please, don't take that sinner from me. Oh lord, Oh Lord, what do I do? I've fallen for someone who's nothing like you. He's raised on the edge of the devil's backbone, oh I just want to take him home…Give me the burden, give me the blame, I'll shoulder the load and I'll carry the blame. How many, how many Hail Mary's is this going to take?_ "

When the song ended and she turned around and froze with a bowl in her hands. Dean was standing in the doorway, hair wet, leaning against the doorway with a smirk gracing his lips.

"How long have you been standing there?" she whispered

Dean laughed, uncrossing his arms and stepping into the kitchen, retrieving his open beer from the table. "Long enough to know you feel very strongly about this song."

Blushing furiously and rolling her eyes, Natalie turned around to put the bowl up. "I do not. I just…really…got into it because I was baking and it's going to rain and I'm happy and stuff." Spinning on her heel, she leaned back against the counter crossing her arms. "So there."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing," Dean responded, his eyes sparkling and a smile playing across his lips. "I just said that you felt strongly about it." Then with a teasing look, he added, "Any particular reason, princess?"

"No," she said quickly. Maybe a little too quickly. Definitely too quickly.

"Really," he said as he put the bottle down. It was less of a question and more of a statement. "Because judging by the look on your face, and the blushing, I'd say that you think I'm adorable. I mean, I think I'm adorable."

"Oh really?" she smirked, crossing her arms. "I mean, you're okay, but I wouldn't say adorable."

"Excuse me?" he questioned, crossing the floor so he was a foot away, "have you seen my face? I walked over so that you could better see it. It's pretty damn adorable."

"Compared to whose? Because I know you weren't comparing it to mine. There's no contest."

"No arguments there," he said softly. "Your face is definitely adorable."

"How adorable?" she teased, moving an inch closer.

Dean closed the space, using one arm to pull her closer, the other to push her dark hair out of her face. "Perfect."

And then before Natalie could respond with another flirtatious retort, before she could fully comprehend that he had pulled her so close that she could feel every muscle in his arms and torso. Before she could mention how beautiful his eyes were this close, how she could see every dark lash framing them, how she wanted to count every freckle dotting his cheekbones and nose…He kissed her.

In the millisecond it took for the surprise to register, she let her own eyes fall shut. She twisted an arm around Dean's neck, keeping his lips as close to hers as she could. She could taste the beer on his lips, but something else. Spearmint? The hand that had been against her face pulled away as he reached behind her to feel for the counter before pressing her against it. His hipbones dug into hers as his hands circled her waist. Her hands wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling at the hair at the back of his neck. When he bit down on her lip lightly, she gasped, and when her lips parted, he took advantage of the situation. Tasting his tongue against her own, she felt her heart flutter and her world tilt on its axis. He was as perfect as she had ever imagined.

Running her fingers across his jawline, down his neck, resting on his chest, she pulled him closer, if at all possible. Every nerve ending in her body was awake, and they needed him. Every piece. As he let his hands rest on her hips, kissing back as furiously as she was, a series of unfortunate events occurred.

The timer went off for the pie, her cell phone and Dean's cell phone both began to ring and Sam walked in the front door.

Jumping apart from each other as if they had been caught doing something much worse than just kissing in the kitchen, Natalie grabbed her phone off the iHome and answered it, while turning around to grab pot holders and pull the pie out of the oven, her phone held between her ear and her shoulder.

"Hi, Mom. Yeah, I'm great. What? Oh, no. I'm alone till school starts back up. Everyone else moved out. Yeah, I'm fine." Then she paused, hesitant to answer with both Sam and Dean standing in her kitchen, even if they were distracted with the call Dean was taking. "No, I haven't applied yet. I know, I just…haven't. I promise I'll think about it. Okay. Yeah, I'll call you tomorrow. Love you too. Bye."

Hanging up and sliding her phone across the counter, she put the pie on a cooling rack, tossing Dean a warning look gesturing for him not to touch the pie. Then, without making eye contact with Sam, she began assembling ingredients for dinner. It was always easier to pretend she was busy working on something than to stand and answer questions. She had learned that a long time ago. Meat, milk, eggs, flour, seasonings, potatoes, butter, so on. Grabbing the potatoes first, she stood by the trash can and began peeling. By the time she was halfway through with peeling, Dean was off the phone. Something about Garth and Arizona. Humming softly while she prepared dinner, she couldn't help freezing slightly when she felt Dean slip up behind her, placing a hand on her waist.

"He went to take a shower. What's for dinner?"

"Chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, salad. Pie after. If you're really nice, I might let you have two pieces."

Dean looked over his shoulder, careful to note that Sam hadn't returned before dropping his head to kiss her shoulder.

"That doesn't qualify as nice, Dean. That's borderline evil."

"What about this?"

Lips across her back, the back of her neck, the spot behind her ear that made her shiver, hands pulling her against him, every nerve on fire again. Sucking in a deep breath, she hissed, "Not. Nice. Winchester."

He laughed softly, his breath tickling her ear, and then he was gone. Turning around to try and persuade him to come back, she heard what had made him stop. The shower was off. Groaning, she turned away busying herself with dinner. He was going to drive her crazy every chance he got. Chatting casually while she cut potatoes and added them to water, Sam rejoined, his long hair damp and tucked behind his ears. He retrieved a beer from the fridge and sat at the table while Natalie worked at prepping meat.

"Should we talk about the plan tonight?" Sam asked, looking between the two.

Natalie nodded in response, her concentration a little too focused on properly seasoning the meat, drenching it, adding it to a plate to be fried.

"When we get there, you can lead us to where she lives; we'll confront her and get her to call off the kids by taking herself out. If she won't, Dean or I can do it for-"

"No," Natalie said quickly, turning around. "If she won't do it, I'll take her out myself. This is between the two of us. I don't want you two getting sucked into it any more than need be. Just…Tell me what I need to do."

The two glanced at each other, and then sipped from their beers, clearly doing their best to avoid eye contact.

"Tell. Me."

Dean looked up, his face serious, concern etching his features, "Cut off her head. And then we have to salt and burn her body."

She stopped, unable to speak, before nodding slowly and turning back to dinner. It was easier to not speak right now. She could accept what she needed to do, but she couldn't say the words. Saying it made it too real. Tonight, she would witness the death of the only person she had ever wanted so desperately to please and so desperately to never see again. It was odd. In a way, she was going to do both tonight. She was going to finally stand up for herself, defend herself, and take out whatever was in her way, which was what Jenny had wanted from her all along. But once this was over, she'd never have to see from her again. Ever. A blessing and a curse.

Turning the subject to dinner as she worked to finish prepping as quickly as possible, she asked brightly, "I hope you guys enjoy eating as much as I do, because I can already guarantee that I'm going to make way too much."

Sam laughed, saying quickly, "Dean eats more than anyone I've ever seen in my entire life. Anytime there's food, and it's offered, he accepts. It's ridiculous."

"It's not my fault I'm always hungry."

"I don't know how you can be always hungry. It's like we eat a meal and then you-"

"Actually," Natalie piped up, tilting her head slightly, "You guys have done this hunting thing your entire life, right? Town to town, state to state?"

A look of confusion exchanged, and then nods.

"And I'm assuming that for the most part, you guys eat fast food or not at all."

Another look. More confirmation.

"Dean, as the older brother, how many times did you eat less or not at all so that Sam had enough?"

Silence. Both boys looked down at their beers, unwilling to speak. Then as Dean lifted his bottle to his lips, he said softly, "Often."

"Same here. Only, I wasn't traveling from state to state, I was living in a home of neglect. Kids like us, the ones that are deprived of food, tend to be more likely to steal food, hoard food, and overeat in order to overcompensate for the lack of food received earlier on in life."

The look of surprised that registered on their faces made her laugh softly. "Little bit of psychology. No big deal. I research all my disorders. Speaking of, how's that 'I'm too adorable to be in trouble' disorder working out for you, Dean?"

Laughter bubbled in the kitchen and before she knew it, the two were taking turns telling stories of each other's embarrassing moments on hunts. The time Dean was afraid of everything. When Sam was attacked by clowns and showed up covered in glitter. Before she knew what was happening, she was laughing so hard, she had to wipe tears from her eyes while she fixed the plates up with food. Then happily, proudly, she placed the plates in front of the two boys, and as she turned to retrieve her own, letting her fingers trail across Dean's arm, she said brightly, "Eat up, boys. We have a hunt tonight."


	6. Chapter 6

Natalie stood in her room, the door closed, staring at her reflection in the full length mirror. She was trying to look like herself while also trying to wear clothes that would work for a 'hunt'. Considering she had never been on a hunt of this sort, she wasn't sure what to wear, so she had donned dark toned jeans, a simple black V-neck, and her moccasins. They were her favorite pair next to her lace flats, but Jenny liked to see her in items she deemed "Native". Natalie figured if she looked the part that her biological mother wanted her so badly to play, maybe she could convince her to listen. It was a long shot, she knew, but it was worth a try. As much as she couldn't stand being in the same room as Jenny, she didn't want to kill her if they could avoid it.

She could see the doubt in her own eyes, and the sight made her resolve harden. If Jenny wanted to fight, then they'd fight. Natalie hadn't done anything wrong and the fact that she had demon children, creepy little black-eyed asshats, sent after her had scared her at first, but now she was pissed. What kind of person sent demons after people? After their children? What made them think they had the right to be allowed to run free? Sighing heavily, Natalie gathered her dark hair into a ponytail and draped it around her shoulder. She was half tempted to braid it, just to make a point, but there was something holding her back from doing so. Maybe she'd look like she was trying too hard. Like she was a child dressing up for a play instead of a young adult trying to appear brave. Besides, she wasn't Katniss.

Just as she was about to change, again, there was a knock on her door and she spun on her heel as if she had been caught doing something wrong. "Come in!"

Dean stepped into her room, closing the door behind him gently. "Almost ready?" he stated softly, his eyes flicking from hers to her hips to the moccasins on her feet. Normally she'd be offended, but he was so gorgeous…And now he was biting down on his bottom lip, his arrogance swung so casually over his frame, it fit him as well as his leather jacket. And his jeans. And…

"Yeah," she replied quickly, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, before shoving her hands in her back pockets. "I was just making sure that my outfit looked okay. I mean, I've never been on a hunt like this before, so I wasn't sure if maybe I should change into long sleeves, since you and Sam are usually in long sleeves or maybe lace up shoes instead of these? I don't know if maybe-"

In the time it had taken her to ramble about her clothes, Dean had crossed the room and interrupted her with a firm kiss. She froze, his fingers wrapping gently around her arms to pull her closer, before melting against his chest. God, she could get used to this.  _Don't. He's going to leave._ Pressing herself closer to his body, she felt a fire erupt in her belly. Reaching up to tangle her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, he pulled back slowly, and she felt regret sink into her stomach like a ball of ice, chilling the fire.  _Stop getting attached._

"You look perfect."

She wanted him. More than she had wanted anything in her life. More than she had wanted to get into school here, more than she wanted to win the top spot at the Presidential Scholar competition, more than she wanted the boy in high school that wouldn't go to prom with her because she wasn't cool enough to be seen with him in public, only after school when he needed help in order to pass English. Every fiber of her being was reaching for him, craving his touch, his taste, the smell of his skin on hers…Blushing furiously, she forced a bright smile, "Good! As for you…You'll do."

Dean's laugh warmed her bones, like slipping into a hot bath after spending the day roaming around in the snow. And when his thumb brushed against her jawline and he looked at her as if he had never seen anything quite like her before, she felt her breath catch in her throat. She wasn't going to be the same after he left, even if kissing was the furthest they ever went. Something about him was settling into her pores. She would never say it out loud, but there was something about the way she clicked with him, the way she fit in his arms, the way she felt so immediately comfortable with him that made her believe they were two pieces of the same soul, torn apart, tossed into different sections of the world, and pushed to find each other someday.

As she stood on her tiptoes to reach his lips again, Sam knocked on the door, opening it without waiting for an answer. The two jumped apart, Natalie kneeling by her desk to grab an ID and her phone from her purse while Dean turned to face Sam, hands in his pockets. A casual grin plastered across his lips. Sam looked between the two, a smirk crossing his features before saying slowly, "So are you two ready to go, or do you need some more time alone?"

"No," Natalie said quickly, feigning innocence, "Why would we need that? Let's roll. I want to get this over with."

A look was exchanged that she chose to ignore, slipping past the two of them to the hallway where she began flipping off lights. "Are you driving or am I?"

"I am," Dean stated quickly, pulling his keys out of his pocket. "I cannot stand your ip3 or whatever it's called."

"iPhone, Dean," Sam stated with a sigh, slinging a bag over his shoulder and checking his gun for ammo.

"Whatever. Let's roll."

Joking banter followed them across the parking lot, Sam and Dean with their sarcasm, Natalie's bell-like laughter rising towards the stars as she threw her head back, dark hair rippling across her shoulders. Once, she leaned over to nudge Dean, blushing slightly when he threw an arm around her neck, opening the door for her when they reached the impala. As she settled in the backseat, appreciating the fact that older cars gave the option to stretch out a bit, she said brightly, "Can we get ice cream when this is done?"

Laughter filled the car with the opening strains of Van Halen, as she settled back against the leather and sighed. The more she talked, the more she laughed, the less likely she was to lose it when they got closer to the reservation. Leaning forward, she pointed Dean towards the interstate, giving him instructions to drive straight north, taking absolutely no turns until he got to the Tonkawa exit. It was really that easy. Then with a bright smile, she pointed out the stretch of trees in the middle of Edmond where a deer had run in front of her friend's vehicle causing her to hit it. Kelby had sworn that the deer was still alive, despite the fact that they had picked fur out of her grill. The next day, when Natalie had gone to work, she had seen the deer lying on its side, clearly dead, by the trees. They had teased her about killing Bambi for weeks.

As they neared the reservation an hour later, she felt her heart leap in her throat. Her senses were in overdrive and her mind was telling her that this wasn't going to end well. Closing her eyes, letting herself relax, she felt a jolt, almost as if she were falling and gasped. Something wasn't right. Something terrible was going to happen tonight, not only to Jenny, but to one of them. Her eyes flashed open to find Sam turned in his seat watching her closely, and Dean watching in the rearview mirror, confusion etched across his face.

"Something bad is going to happen," she whispered, her hands shaking. She knew she sounded crazy, but she had always had an odd sense of intuition. Her mother often told her that she was a miniature-adult, even when she was a young child. "We need to watch each other's backs carefully tonight. Something isn't right."

"We always do," Sam said slowly glancing at Dean, then back to her. "What happened? Did you see something?"

She knew what he was thinking. That she came from a family of messed up people that summoned demons, and had clairvoyant visions and that just as the mother should be put down, so should the child. But it wasn't like that at all. It was just that sometimes she had feelings or thoughts that chilled her. She could tell when something incredibly wrong was going to happen. And she knew that something bad was going to happen tonight.

"I didn't see anything," she said softly, not meeting Sam's eyes. "I just get these feelings sometimes and right now I can tell that we need to be careful, or someone's going to get hurt."

Sam turned around without another comment, but he exchanged a glance with Dean that made Natalie feel suddenly very small. She didn't belong on the same side as Jenny, because she hated everything she stood for, but she wasn't sure she belonged on the hunter side either. She was odd, she always had been. And if she was caught in the middle, she couldn't belong to either one. And that was all she wanted. To belong. Pointing the way to the reservation, quieter now than she had been the entire evening, Natalie watching the road with a set jaw. There was no backing out now.

"Third house on the left," she said, barely above a whisper. As the impala slowed to a stop in front of the house, she grimaced. Cats milled about outside, there were at least two broken down vehicles, and a pile of flat out junk in the yard. Following Dean out of the vehicle, waiting as they loaded up on weaponry, she accepted a pistol with shaking hands, tucking it in her back waistband. Then with absolutely sincerity, she nodded at the two and gestured for them to follow her to the door. Then she knocked on the front door, her fist in time with the beating of her heart, so loud she was sure they could hear it behind her. There was no sound from inside, so she knocked again, her brow furrowing. Jenny was always here. Glancing behind her at the boys, who shrugged in response, she sighed and dropped to a knee to unearth a key from a rusty old lantern sitting by the front door. Unlocking the door, she stepped inside, gagging at the smell.

"Jenny?" she called, moving hesitantly into the house, Sam and Dean close behind her. Three sets of eyes were better than one, right? Natalie stepped over piles of clothes and trash. Nearly every surface was covered in some form of trash. Cigarette stubs, half empty beer bottles, fast food wrappers, baggies from who knew what. Gesturing for the two to follow her, she muttered while trying not to breathe through her nose, "Watch your step. She has a lot of cats, and occasionally uses so there could be needles if you're not careful." The three moved slowly through the house, Sam and Dean with guns drawn, Natalie covering her mouth and nose with both hands. After making it through every room of the small house and finding no sign of Jenny, Natalie motioned for the group to move outside. She couldn't breathe in here, let alone think clearly.

Stepping out on the lawn, she sucked in deep breaths of clean air, her hands on her hips. She should've known it would be bad. It had been when she lived with her a small child. Why should anything have changed now? Turning to face the boys, she let out a surprised yelp when she saw the tiny, round woman standing behind them. Sam and Dean spun around, guns drawn as Natalie waved her hands in a move for them to put the guns up. Pushing past the two, she muttered, "Not her," before falling into the embrace of the woman, who was now surveying the two with a look of intense dislike.

"Sam, Dean, this is my great-aunt Mary. Aunt Mary, Sam and Dean Winchester. Don't mind them, they're just gun happy," Natalie said pleasantly, as if her entire life wasn't riding on finding Jenny within the next two hours of coming in contact with demon children out in the open at Fort Oakland. Mary muttered something about 'white boys' that made Natalie laugh, her eyes shining brightly in the street light buzzing above their heads. "Aunt Mary, have you seen Jenny lately? I need to talk to her."

Mary looked at the two boys with a grimace before leaning towards Natalie and whispering fervently. She frowned at her great-aunt's words, but nodded slowly. "And you're sure? How long has she been there?" Another secret conversation, and then a smile between the two. Natalie hugged her aunt again, and then waved as the woman walked back towards her own house, casting a final disgusted look at the Winchesters.

"So?" Dean said expectantly, watching Mary's retreating figure. "What'd she say?"

"Well, first of all, she doesn't like you guys. She says white boys and guns are never a good combination. But she also said that Jenny's staying in the cabin that the reservation owns out in the middle of the reservation. It's normally used as a retreat for those who are struggling with one issue or another. It's secluded, and she's been there a little over a week."

"Can we get to it?" Sam interjected, a look of concentration etched across his forehead.

"Easily," Natalie said with a shrug, before she turned and started walking down a worn trail leading out to the open prairie.

"Wouldn't driving be easier?" Dean yelled after Natalie's retreating figure.

She turned and laughed, her hands in her back pockets again, "No cars out in the prairie, Dean."

As the two jogged to catch up, then fell into step with her, Dean asked with a look of assurance in his eyes, "No cars because it's a spiritual place, right? Like we're not supposed to have guns and all that. It's like a 'holy land'?"

Natalie laughed again, shaking her head, "No, Dean. No cars because there's no road and your impala doesn't have four wheel drive."

The look of disappointment was so humorous she and Sam collapsed into fits of laughter that made Dean huff off in front of them to pout in silence. Eventually, after a bit of apologizing (however half-hearted it may have been) they convinced Dean to walk with them, especially the further they got away from civilization. With each step, Natalie's heart beat faster and she could feel her breaths growing shorter. Back at her house was going to be scary enough, but at least there would be other people around, as made obvious by great-aunt Mary showing up out of nowhere. But out here, they were entirely on their own. And true, it was three against one, but if they weren't quick enough, it would be Jenny and the demons against the three of them, with limited weaponry. It's like they were asking for one of them to get hurt. And then, in the darkness, there was a shape ahead. The hut, with light glowing in the windows. A shiver of fear ran through Natalie's body, causing her hands to begin shaking. When her teeth began to chatter, Dean reached over in the darkness and caught her hand. Though it eased the fear, it didn't stop the trembling in her limbs. In fact, it ignited a different set of nerves all together.

And then all too soon they were standing in front of the door. Natalie sucked in a deep breath and stood up straighter. She let go of Dean's hand and turned to face the door as Sam and Dean pulled their guns from their waistbands, ready in case the conversation started off on the wrong foot. Reaching up to knock on the door, she jumped back when it swung open in front of her to reveal Jenny, grinning in the glow of the light from the fireplace. "You made it, and you brought friends. How sweet."

She looked terrible. Her long, dark hair, so similar to Natalie's own, was tangled in knots, clearly having not been washed in days, or weeks even. Her skin was yellowed and stretched tight over her bones and her eyes were sunken in with the weight loss tied to drug use. The stench in her home clung to her clothes and skin and hair and Natalie had to fight the urge to gag. Her eyes were blue today, thanks to the contacts she had most likely stolen from a family member. And her nails were cracked and bitten as she reached forward to grasp Natalie's wrist and pull her into the hut. With a yelp, she nearly lost her footing as she was lurched over the threshold. Before she could really grasp what was happening, there was one Winchester on side, steadying her and pushing away Jenny's hand in a single fluid motion.

The door swung shut behind them on its own accord, like a low budget horror film. Swallowing hard, Natalie opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a wave of Jenny's hand that slammed Sam and Dean against the closed door, pinning them with the heavy oak table, and cut off her own breath. Over the struggle to breath, she couldn't help but wonder where she got this much power. Jenny had never really been that good at anything in particular; always keen to fly under the radar, but this was a new level. Maybe this power, whatever it was, made her feel important.

And then she was released from the grip, causing her to suck in breath, reaching up to massage her throat. Sam and Dean were still pinned behind her, grunting against the pressure of the table. She was completely alone in this, and her gun was still tucked behind her back.  _"I'm screwed,"_  she thought as she kept her eyes focused on Jenny, who was grinning sadistically. Air had never tasted so sweet. " _I don't want to do this alone. I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm going to die. This is what that feeling was about. I knew someone was going to get hurt. I knew something bad was going to happen. This was it._ "

"Scared, Natty?"

Natalie flinched at the pet name. She hadn't been called Natty since she was a small child, and she had done everything in her power to make sure that none of her friends ever called her that. The name made her stomach churn. But she stood a bit taller, pulling herself up to her full height, a whole five feet and five inches. "No."

"You should be," Jenny sneered, flicking her wrist again. And again, Natalie felt the air sucked out of her lungs, but this time, she focused her gaze on Jenny, her eyes boring into Jenny's. When their eyes met, she felt Jenny's power falter. Maybe mothers couldn't attack their children as easily as they thought? The anger flickered in Jenny's eyes before she shifted her hips and pushed all her power from Natalie to Dean.

"No!" Natalie yelled, quicker than she should have. She just made it obvious what was going on between them. She just revealed the chink in her armor, and now Dean would pay for it.

"Ah," Jenny said pleasantly, lowering her hands slowly, leaving Dean gasping in her wake. "If I want you, I just have to hurt him."

"Please don't," she said softly, keeping her back away from Jenny. "I just came to talk to you. To figure out why."

"Why what?" Jenny snapped, her eyes flashing angrily.

"Why the demon children. Please, I'm not mad, I'm just scared and hurt and I just came to ask," Natalie said quickly, her hands up in defense. "I swear."

"If that's all you came for," the older woman retorted acidly, "Why did you bring them?"

She gestured to Sam and Dean. Sam was still struggling against the weight of the table, unable to speak, only grunt, as he fought to keep an eye on Dean. Dean, on the other hand, had begun to slump against the table, the combination of the pressure of the table and the lack of breath control overwhelming him. Natalie bit down so hard on her lip she tasted blood.

"Because they're my friends, and I was scared to come alone," she admitted softly. There was no need to explain they were hunters. Doing so would only guarantee their deaths, and likely hers. "I just needed answers, you know? And it was a long drive up and I wasn't up to doing it myself. Things have just been so stressful, and I haven't had the time I wanted to even get normal school stuff done and-"

"Shut up," Jenny spouted rolling her eyes as she moved a few steps towards the table. Natalie turned as well, still keeping her back hidden. "You want to know why I summoned the children? Hmm?" Natalie waited, then upon realizing it wasn't a rhetorical question, nodded slowly.

"Because if I can't have you, no one can."

And a chill rippled through Natalie's body. Her mind flashed back to the last night she spent with Jenny. Her foster parent's rights had been terminated, and Jenny had been given full custody upon the completion of her parenting classes. Natalie had said goodbye to her foster parents, not realizing she wasn't going to see them again, and cheerily jumped in Jenny's car, expecting to be brought back after the weekend was over. That night, however, Natalie had become distraught when she was told she wasn't going back to the Lyons' home. She had sobbed until Jenny had finally put her to sleep on the couch in the living room under her Pocahontas comforter. It wasn't right. Jenny didn't read her three books, and she didn't make her sleeping powder (strawberry nesquik and milk) and she didn't make duck shadow puppets on the wall. And then, all of a sudden, she was woken up by the sound of gunshots. Natalie had screamed endlessly until Jenny had finally called her former foster parents and begged them to come get her.

" _Come get her. She won't stop crying. If you don't come get her, I'll hurt her._ "

Natalie cried on the floor of the living room as Jenny locked herself in her bedroom. Eventually she had crawled over to the door and knocked on it, calling after her biological mother. When she finally got the door open, Jenny was curled in the corner, staring at the bottle in her hand, muttering, " _If I can't have you, no one can._ " Natalie left the room a few short minutes later, her father was there. They left her favorite sweater with the cat buttons and the pink dress she wore in a local pageant, and her stationary set, but she had gone home. She learned much later in life that Jenny had been on drugs, owed a drug dealer some money, and when she didn't have it, he did a drive by, not knowing (and possibly not caring) that a five and a half year old Natalie was asleep in the front room.

Natalie was snapped back to reality when she heard Sam's yell and the sound of Dean choking on a lack of air. Pulling the gun from behind her back and clicking off the safety, she pointed it at Jenny's back, her finger on the trigger. "I swear on all that is holy, if you don't stop, I'll-"

"You'll what?" Jenny called over the noise, "I know you, Natalie. I'm your  _mother_. You wouldn't dare."

At Jenny's final word, Natalie pulled the trigger. She saw it in slow motion. The bullet spiraling out of the barrel and embedding itself in Jenny's back. The way Jenny lost her concentration and instead dug at her back, desperate to get the bullet out. The way Jenny sank to her knees in the middle of the floor as Sam pushed the table away and turned to grasp Dean's shoulders. The way Dean gasped for air, his face nearly purple, but alive and breathing. And then, on instinct, the way she turned and grabbed the ax by the fireplace and swung with every fiber of her being, all of her pent up anger and disappointment, anxiety and frustration. The way Jenny's head separated from the rest of her body and rolled across the floor, her hands falling to her sides as her body pitched forward.

And then everything was back up to speed. Natalie looked at the dead woman in front of her and whispered, "You're not my mother," before blacking out.

**Thanks for your patience everyone! As much as I love this story, it gets a little hard to write sometimes. Be kind to Natalie! I love her. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

Natalie woke up with a pounding headache and green eyes framed with dark lashes and freckles. Concern was quickly replaced with relief, and as she sat up, the taste of his name on the tip of her tongue, he pulled her against his chest in a crushing grip, pressing his lips firmly to hers. Fire erupted in her limbs, her face, her stomach. In fact, she was so enamored it took her a moment to remember where she was and what had happened just before everything went blank. Pulling away from Dean quickly, as much of a struggle as it was, she glanced around the room of the shack. They were seated on the twin sized bed in the corner and her head had been in his lap. Jenny's decapitated body (and head) was no longer in the center of the room and the ax Natalie had used was missing as well. In fact, for the most part, the shack appeared to be in its normal state. The fire was burning cheerily in the fire place, as if a murder hadn't just happened right in front of it, and other than the fact that the heavy table was at an awkward angle by the door, nothing else appeared to have been touched at all.

With the terrible feeling that she was about to be sick, Natalie swallowed hard, flicking her eyes back to Dean.

"What time is it? And where are Sam and…" she paused, unsure of what to say now that she was dead. "Her?"

"It's about one. You've been out for a while. Scared me to be honest. As for Sam and the witch, they're outside. Sam's preparing the final stage of a hunt," he said casually, leaning back against the headboard.

"The final stage of a hunt?" she asked quizzically, her eyes narrowing suspicion.

"Yeah," Dean said in a cavalier tone, his eyes not quite meeting her own. "The burning stage."

She paused, trying to take it what that meant exactly, and when it clicked, she jumped off the bed, her feet connecting with the floor so hard she almost lost her balance as she scrambled for the door. She could hear Dean behind her, calling her name, begging for her to stop for a moment, tripping over the same spot on the floor that she had as he chased after her…When she stepped out into the dark, she paused, blinking rapidly to help her eyes adjust more quickly. She had to get there before Sam did anything. "Damn it," she muttered, as she searched for a shadow, a pile of brush, a weird body bag shaped thing in the dark with no success. "Dean, where is he?"

Dean had slid out the door behind her, and he wrapped an around her waist to pull her back to the door. Groaning as she struggled against his arm, he said clearly, authoritatively, "Natalie, stop. Don't worry about it. Come back inside and chill. You just came back to reality after being out for a ridiculous chunk of time and you don't need to go run around the prairie looking for a burn session."

Jerking away from Dean, she turned to face him with anger flashing in her eyes, the fire from the fireplace reflecting in them, making it look like she was filled with fire. And in a way, she was. She was angry. This was her hunt, her problem, and her problem to deal with. Running off and finishing it without her was unacceptable. For one thing, she would never get any closure. With an equally authoritative tone, she crossed her arms across her chest and snapped, "You might be able to boss Sam around with that tone, but I'm not your little brother. So don't tell me what to do." Turning and taking several large steps out into the grasses, she paused looking both ways before sighing heavily. Then turning slowly to face Dean, she said cautiously, "I'm going to go. This is my thing to finish. And I would really appreciate it if you would tell me which way I need to go. Or just come with me." That was the thing with Natalie. As quickly as her anger flared, it disappeared. She was rarely angry for very long, but rather guilty, or sad, or disappointed, depending on what action had caused her reaction. In this case, she felt guilty. Dean had only been trying to keep her from overexertion, and he was probably concerned with the fact that she killed her biological mother, passed out, and stayed out for several hours. She would be concerned too.

Crossing the few steps she left, she sighed softly as she wrapped her arms around Dean's waist, resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. He tensed, but as she held on, breathing in and out slowly, she felt him exhale and relax, before draping and arm across her shoulders. When he dipped his face to kiss her head, she looked up, her dark eyes serious again. "I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to snap at you. This is just really important to me. I promise if you take me and let me help, I'll sleep the whole way home."

She could tell he was contemplating it, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Then with a heavy sigh, and a roll of his eyes, he nodded slowly. "Fine. Normally I'd say no, but if you promise to sleep on the way home, we'll do it."

"I promise," She said quickly, forcing a bright smile.

Without another word, he linked his fingers through hers, and then led her around to the back of the shack, before starting off across the prairie. As they walked slowly, their eyes adjusting to the dark, grasshoppers and crickets flinging themselves into the dark to avoid their feet, Natalie sighed softly. This was going to be it. And clearly, something had worked. They weren't being stalked by demon children at the moment. She wouldn't believe that she was really going to be okay until she saw Jenny's body and the burning. In fact, she probably wouldn't believe that she was going to be okay until she spent the next few nights demon child free. To be honest, she wasn't sure how this whole "hunter lifestyle" thing worked, but she assumed that once they got back to Edmond and assured her life was back to normal, they'd leave. It was exactly why she never should have even kissed Dean. It was just going to make the whole thing harder. Maybe she could convince them to stay a few more days. Just as a confirmation that everything was back to normal. She wasn't ready to let go yet.

And then they topped a crest, and there they were. At the bottom of the hill, in a valley of sorts, there was Sam with a huge pile of brush, with what she could only assume was Jenny underneath it all. He looked up at her and Dean, waving slightly as he assembled items for the burn. Dean left Natalie's side to go explain while she circled the brush pile, confirming that yes, in fact, Jenny's body was underneath it all. As she rounded a corner, she saw a bag close to the pile and picked it up, frowning in the dark to read it. "Salt?"

Both Sam and Dean looked over, their conversation stopping midsentence. With a glance at each other, Sam said slowly, "Yeah…Salt. We have to salt the body before we burn it. It just ensures that nothing comes back."

Natalie nodded slowly, dropping the bag back on the ground where she found it before crossing the distance between her and the boys in a few steps. "I want to do it."

"What?" they said together.

"I want to do it. Light the brush."

Dean laughed bitterly, shoving his hands in his pockets, "No."

"Yes."

"No, princess."

"Stop calling me that. It's condescending. And yes. It's my egg donator, not yours."

There was silence before the two burst into laughter, Sam speaking first. "Egg donator?"

"Egg donator. Like a sperm donator, but egg."

More laughter ensued, but Sam relented, passing Natalie what she could only refer to as a small blowtorch. Accepting it, she looked from the device to the boys, then back. "So…Now? Or do we wait?"

"Now's fine."

And so she stepped forward, her heart pounding in her throat. It was like she was afraid that as soon as she stepped forward a hand would shoot out of the bottom and grab her ankle or something like that. So as she held her breath, she leaned forward, lighting a bundle of sticks at the very edge of the brush. And then, because Sam had gathered prairie grasses, the whole thing lit up in seconds, burning brightly against the night. Taking several hurried steps back, her eyes wide, she backed right into Dean, who reached around her to carefully remove the flaming device from her hands. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said softly, her eyes not leaving the burning pile. She stared in silence for a moment, unmoving, before slowly reaching over to grab Dean's hand. When his fingers slipped between hers, she found herself fighting back tears. It was ridiculous. Brushing her free hand across her face quickly to remove any trace of moisture, she turned towards Sam, her head cocked in confusion. "So how long have you guys been salting and burning bodies?"

"Umm…Forever?" Sam asked, his hands shoved in his pockets, laughing halfheartedly.

"Define forever."

"As long as I can remember I've attended hunts. I got dropped in hotel rooms to hang out a lot, but once I turned thirteen it was my job to gather the brush while Dean helped Dad pull the body out of the trunk of the car. It was a pretty normal thing."

"Wait, wait, wait," Natalie interrupted shifting her glance from Sam to Dean. "That would've made you…What? Seventeen?"

"Yep," Dean said casually, a shrug punctuating his sentence.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope."

"Hold on," Natalie said, holding a hand up, a mixture of confusion and anger splayed across her face. "Are you telling me that as children you were asked to help with hunts? Stuff like this?" She gestured towards the bonfire in front of their half circle.

"Yeah," Dean said, clearly confused as to why she would be angry. "I mean it was a normal thing. We grew up on the road."

"But what about school? And making friends? Having a steady home? Holidays?"

"That wasn't exactly a thing," Sam said softly. "We went to school if we were staying somewhere for a couple weeks, otherwise we studied stuff on the road. As for friends, we didn't have a lot of time to make those, so we learned to depend on each other. I mean, I can't speak for Dean, but I've had a pretty great life. And I went to Stanford. It's really not that big of a deal, Nat."

"No, except it is," she stated, anger icing her veins. "Hunting life isn't a life for children. Or family. I mean…Kids should have the option to go to school and make friends and have a consistent Christmas plan. And before you ask why I'm so angry, it's because my life with her?" She pointed at the burning mound, "Was like that. And it wasn't a life. And it's great that you went to Stanford, don't get me wrong. And you both seem like well-adjusted adults, but my God. He doesn't sound like much of a father."

The look exchanged between the two was one of pure amusement.

"You don't know the half of it, darling," Dean said casually, releasing Natalie's hand so he could wrap an arm around her shoulder.

"Explain. Please."

"Gladly!" Sam said with a grin, "Just keep in mind that we may laugh as we share our tales, but we're just as angry. We just don't really talk about all of it." Then he sucked in a deep breath, recalling memories. "Okay. When I was a kid, about nine, and I was afraid of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45."

"And once I stole food and got arrested, and instead of coming to pick me up, he sent me to a boy's home," Dean stated matter-of-factly.

"Once Jenny sent me outside in the snow with a light jacket to play because it was "so nice outside" and she wanted to get high."

"One time Dad didn't come home for Christmas at all. So Sam gave me the present he originally got him."

"One time Jenny left me sitting on a curb in the parking lot of a bar while she went inside to play darts. When I got thirsty and went inside to find her, she dragged me back outside, sat me down on the curb and told me not to move, then went back inside without asking why I came in to find her."

"We had to kill our dad."

"I had to kill my…Jenny."

There was a beat of silence, and then all three burst into laughter. It was morbid, really. A group of young adults, one a bit younger than the others, standing beside a burning corpse, laughing about the lack of parenting skills they had all encountered. And yet, in spite of everything, it was cathartic. They were purging the sins of their parents, and soaking in the freedom of the prairie, and after they trekked back to the car and made it back to Edmond, none of them would remain unchanged. Hunting changed lives; sometimes for the better.

As they sat around the glow of the fire, waiting for it to die down before leaving so they didn't cause a prairie fire, they shared horror stories and funny stories, unbelievable stories, and stories too "out there" to not believe. The stories switched between terrible parenting, embarrassing moments, and horror stories that made Natalie jump when a pheasant flew out of a pile of brush to her left. Natalie's favorite story was the convention in which people ran around, dressed like them, at which they burned a body and scared to men that ended up being a couple. Sam and Dean's favorite story ended up being the one in which Natalie's mother took her through a Taco Mayo drive thru, the business that her crush worked at, and sang songs from the Phantom of the Opera at the top of her lungs while Natalie cowered in the passenger's seat.

When there was nothing left of the bonfire but a pile of ash, the boys checked to assure they had their weird blowtorch thing and any other necessities before they began the hike back towards the car. Every now and then Natalie would stoop to pluck clumps of leaves from the ground, twisting them into a knot, then grabbing more, adding them, and continuing the walk. After several brief pit stops, Dean finally asked, "I'm sorry, but what are you doing?"

"Gathering sage."

"Why?"

"Because. We have to cleanse the shack. That much negative energy is probably soaked into the wood at this point. It'll just take a little bit, but I have to do it. I can't leave and have that on my conscious. What if someone comes out here with their baby?"

There was an excessive amount of sighing and eye rolling, but eventually the boys agreed that it made sense and that it would be best to do the cleansing, even if they were all exhausted and hungry and it was nearing daylight. As they made it to the shack, Natalie borrowed the weird blowtorch thing and lit the bundle of sage, before making sure she wafted the smoke from the sage in every square inch of space in the shack. By the time she was done, she felt nauseated (she had always hated the smell of sage), and was ready for a nap and a stack of pancakes.

By the time they made it to the impala, the sun was peeking its head over the horizon. As they assumed their positions in the car, Natalie hesitated before asking carefully, "I know this is weird. Like super weird and awkward and uncomfortable for everyone involved, but could we maybe go see my parents? Meet them for breakfast or something? Blackwell's only about ten minutes away and I haven't seen them in a while and I'm sure they'd love to meet you and I just can't be this close and not stop. And like I said I know it sounds ridiculous, but—"

"Sure," Dean interrupted smoothly, flashing a bright grin in the rearview mirror.

It was so surprising that she sat in silence for a moment. "Oh. Okay, great! I'll just…call. Um. Just follow the road out and go straight until you get to Main and follow it straight out of town." As she fumbled with her cell phone, punching the preset number for her dad's cell phone, she smiled thankfully at Dean. Already she could feel herself relaxing back into her normal state of mind. When her dad answered, she quickly explained that she and two of her friends from out of state had gotten up early to drive up and have breakfast with the two of them and would they be willing to meet at The Plainsman for breakfast? Upon the confirmation, she hung up happily and directed Dean to the restaurant on the edge of town, pure happiness pulsing through her veins.

As they entered the restaurant, where Natalie said hello to the waitresses and the owner who had stepped out of the back to bring a fresh stack of plates to the front, the took a table at the far left side where her father always sat. They hadn't been seated long when a family walked in and the teen daughter shouted Natalie's name and bounded across the restaurant to nearly tackle her in a hug. As they chattered happily about how school was going, Natalie noticed a book in her hand.

"Ireya, what are you reading?"

"Oh, it's amazing! It's called Supernatural. It's these two brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester, and they hunt down these paranormal things and kill them and it's amazing. Actually, it's really funny because they drive a '67 impala, and there's a '67 impala in the parking lot. Crazy, right?"

"So crazy," Natalie said with a smirk as she turned to glance over her shoulder at the boys. Both were incredibly fascinated with the coffee cups in front of them, Dean paying a little too much attention to the breakfast menu than was absolutely necessary. "Hey, Rey, can I borrow this for like…ten minutes? I'll run it back to your table as soon as I'm done."

"Yeah, of course! Trust me, you'll get addicted. Sam and Ruby, Dean and Lisa…Ugh. So beautiful."

With a grin, Ireya waved and bounded back to her family's table as Natalie slipped into the seat between Sam and Dean with a bright grin splayed across her face. As she flipped through the book she paused at a section, laughter on the cusp of escaping from her lips.

"What?" Dean snapped.

"Sam and Dean made it to the top of the steps, the ship's flags fluttering in the breeze behind them. As they stepped towards the spot where Dean had parked his impala, he began looking around in confusion. "This is where we parked the car, right?" "I thought so," Sam replied hesitantly. "Where's my car?" Dean said seriously. "Did you feed the meter?" "Yes, I fed the meter! Sam, where's my car?! Somebody stole my car!" Dean yelled, looking out over the pier. "Hey, Dean calm down." "I am calmed down! Somebody stole my—" Dean broke off his sentence as he sucked in his breath. So this was a panic attack. "Hey, hey, hey, hey, take it easy."

"Okay, enough," Dean interrupted, grimacing, as Sam laughed into his hands. "Freaking Bela."

"Bela?"

"Bela Talbot. Stealer of paranormal goods, hater of impalas."

Natalie laughed as Dean yanked the book out of her hands, tossing it to the side of the table. "You guys didn't tell me you have a book series that was this cool! I mean, if it's reached Blackwell, it's pretty cool."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sam laughed, shaking his head. "They got a little out of hand, to be honest."

She was about to respond when a familiar vehicle pulled in the parking spot. With a brilliant grin she took off in a flash to greet her parents, where at the door there were excited exchanges and arms flying to hug each other. Then Natalie explained something with much fervor, pointing over to the table where Sam and Dean sat, her lips saying their names as she pointed to each in turn. Then her mother leaned over and whispered something that caused Natalie to blush and again her lip said, "Dean."

Then she escorted her parents to the table, where she introduced her police chief father and her elementary school teaching mother to Sam and Dean. The hunters of supernatural things, the pretend FBI Agents, Park Rangers, Police Officers, etc. Although, to be honest, she told her parents that she met them researching a project. Not a lie, necessarily. As they sat down and pulled menus in front of them, Natalie's father began interrogating Sam and Dean on their pasts and futures as Natalie and her mother discussed school and work. And then her dad told Dean how much he loved the impala, much to everyone's surprise, before her father admitted that his first car when he graduated from college was a blue '67 impala. All was perfectly fine until she was halfway through her pancakes and her mother asked if she had applied for the grad school scholarship yet.

Natalie wasn't going to say anything to Dean or Sam about grad school. Because even though she knew that as soon as they got back to Edmond and got some sleep and they were going to leave right after, she had really hoped that there was going to be something about her that Dean would like enough to stay for. And as soon as he found out that yes, she had in fact applied for the scholarship and she had had an interview for it last week and she should hear something in the next few days, he would leave without looking back, because nothing said "tied down" like "grad school".

She explained that she had, how the interview had gone, and when she should expect a confirmation or denial. Sam shared how when he had attended Stanford, he had missed his interview for grad school for pre-law. At the mention of pre-law, Natalie's dad mentioned that he almost did pre-law as well, but got his admission to law school and the highway patrol on the same day and chose the highway patrol instead, even though it would pay less. He had always wanted to help people. While they were talking, Natalie stole a glance at Dean, who was busy charming her mother. Everything was perfect. Except the fact that he was going to leave.

After her father paid for breakfast, hugs and handshakes evenly distributed, money for "gas or food or whatever" slipped into Natalie's hand, and final hugs again, Natalie slipped into the backseat of the impala and got read for a nap. As she leaned with her head against the window of the backseat, she watched the way the morning light danced across Dean's face, lighting up his green eyes, darkening his lashes, highlighting his freckles. With a sigh of desire, her eyes fluttered close and Natalie spent the rest of the trip dreaming about what could, but never would, be.


	8. Chapter 8

Natalie was in the moment of sleep that, when most people enter it, feels so much like reality and so much like a dream that it's nearly impossible to decipher which is which, when she heard Sam and Dean talking about her. At first it was just a soft buzzing in the background, barely enough to stir her from her sleep, but slowly she began to wake up, bit by bit. First, the feeling of leather under her cheek. Then the smell of gunpowder. Then the sound of windshield wipers brushing away raindrops. She shivered slightly, curling up into more of a ball in the backseat of the impala, refusing to open her eyes in the hope that she could fall back asleep, when she finally honed in on what they were talking about. Her age. She could sit up now and join the conversation, probably causing both to blush and jump, since she assumed people didn't normally spend much time sleeping in the backseat of the impala. And besides, if she focused hard enough she could probably go back to sleep. Then again, the seatbelt buckle was digging in to her side.

"She's like…19. 20, tops."

"Sam, she has to be at least 21. She bought alcohol when we went grocery shopping."

"Okay, but she's a new 21. She looks really young, Dean."

"Yes. And the problem with that is?"

"Nothing! I'm just saying, you're 30."

"Again, what's the problem?"

"If she's 21, it might be—"

"I'm 23," Natalie said suddenly, sitting up with a heavy sigh, brushing thick waves of hair out of her face. Glancing out the window, she sighed softly. They were nearly back to Edmond. It was only about ten, fifteen more minutes. Then she flicked her eyes to the front seat where both Winchesters shifted uncomfortably, blushing brightly. She laughed before remembering that chances were that they would take her back to her apartment, take showers, and leave. She'd never see them again, not unless something supernatural happened, and even if that happened to be the case, the chances of getting these two particular hunters were unlikely.

"23, Sam," Dean said simply, an arrogant grin tracing his lips.

There was an abundant amount of eye rolling, with the two calling each other "Bitch" and "Jerk" and arguments over the radio, with rules about drivers picking the music. Natalie was tired enough that she didn't have much to contribute to the conversation. All she could think about was collapsing in her bed, falling asleep to the sound of water running in the bathroom, the last glimpse before she slipped into unconscious, her shelves full of books, the piano and guitar in the corner of the room, the white Christmas lights strung around the top of her room to help relax after the end of a long night. And as much as she wanted to imagine Dean next to her, it wasn't going to happen and that was going to be incredibly depressing when she finally had to confront it. Even thinking of it now made her feel sick.

As they pulled in a parking spot at Natalie's apartment complex, she crawled rather ungracefully out of the backseat of the car, tripping over her own feet, causing her to catch Dean's arm for balance. And when she did, she blushed brightly, letting go like her hands had been burned. And then at the door she fumbled for her keys so much so it was reminiscent of the night of the children in her yard. Except this time her hands were shaking out of nerves and not fear. Except that nerves were technically a type of fear, right? Being nervous was being uncomfortable and being uncomfortable stemmed from fear. At least that's what she had read once.

Stumbling through the front door in a cloud of fatigue and a bundle of nerves, Natalie dropped her keys in a Christmas present shaped bowl sitting on the table in the foyer, and turned to face Dean, who had followed her in while Sam dug through the trunk, for what, she assumed, was nothing of much importance, just enough to give the two of them a few minutes of alone time. She opened her mouth to explain that she was going to go to her room to sleep when Dean's arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her as close as he could, and his lips pressed against hers firmly. Again, it took her breath away. Her fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his neck, and in the short moment that they were tangled together, she found it nearly impossible to breathe at all. When she pulled back for breath, his green eyes sparkled brightly.

"I just had to check."

"Check?" She asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"To make sure that this didn't bother you."

"Dean," she started, pausing when she couldn't find the right words. "If I had a problem with…any of this, I would have said something the first time you kissed me."

"It's always worth asking," he responded, flashing a beautiful smile that made her knees knock.

When he tipped his head to kiss her again, she allowed only a few more before she put a hand against his chest to stop him. She loved this, really, with all she had, but she had to sleep. She was swaying on her feet, and not just from the head rush she got from the kisses. When he looked at her with concern, she grinned sleepily, shaking her head slowly. "I have to sleep. I lo-um. Like this. You. A lot. But I really have to sleep. I'm not good at this few hours of sleep and then functioning and I think I'm going to pass out so—"

She was interrupted with a kiss. Of course, that kiss was interrupted by a slightly awkward Sam that cleared his throat loudly like a parent walking in their teenage daughter's bedroom. She, of course, blushed furiously, while Dean simply smiled, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and kissed her on the forehead. Ducking her head, she waved to the two and stumbled down the hallway to her room. As soon as the door clicked closed, she kicked off her shoes, stepped out of her jeans and pulled her shirt over her head. Then digging in her drawer, she pulled out an oversized college t-shirt, and a pair of shorts, dressing as quickly as she had undressed, before pulling back her comforter, diving under the sheets, and dropping her head back onto the pillow.

She had just dozed off when the nightmare happened. She was standing in the shack, and Jenny was in front of her, and Sam and Dean were behind her, but everything was distorted. Jenny was about ten feet tall, and the flames in the fireplace behind her leapt above her shoulders. Sam was yelling for Dean, and Dean wasn't responding, except this time, she was powerless to move and she had to watch Dean turn red, then purple, then stop breathing all together. And then she turned on Sam, and his sweet brown eyes started to roll back in his head and she started screaming. She was screaming so loudly that it was echoing in her ears, and tearing at her throat, and pulling from the pit of her stomach so strongly she felt like she was going to throw up. And the scream was wrapping its hands around her shoulders and shaking her out of her dream, and it had green eyes, and the concern coloring the scream's features made her want to cry, and the scream…No. It was Dean. Dean was holding her against his chest while she sobbed like an infant.

"Hey, hey, hey. Nat, it's me. It's Dean, it's okay."

It was several long minutes before she finally calmed down, and by that point, Dean had settled in her bed, holding her head against his chest while he leaned back against the pillows, rocking her gently, placing the occasional kiss on her forehead. When she finally calmed down, the terror had latched itself onto her bones. She sucked in deep breaths, feeling her breathing calm, though her mind was still spinning. The feeling of wanting to throw up had settled in her stomach. She was so stuck in the nightmare that she didn't realize that she was shaking.

"Focus on me, okay, Nat?"

She nodded slowly, lifting her dark eyes to his green, matching her breaths to his. The affect he had on her was astounding. Calming panic attacks, losing her sensibility, falling deeper and deeper in a hole that she wasn't going to be able to just jump out of like it was nothing. Losing Dean was going to be hard. On top of the interview for grad school, looking into the house on Twyman that she wanted to badly to rent, planning her future, she had to decide how far she was willing to let Dean in, no matter how happy he made her feel now. And she didn't want to make that decision. Not right now, anyway.

"Stay until I fall asleep?" she asked softly, reaching up to touch Dean's face, feeling her heart flutter when he nodded and leaned into her touch.

Curling against him, wrapping her fingers around his wrist so she could feel when he moved, she closed her eyes and pressed her head against his chest to listen to his heartbeat. He tangled a hand in her hair, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. The hand that her hand was wrapped around rested on her shoulder. In the time it took her to fall asleep, a few minutes at most, Dean had made a decision. When Natalie's grip loosened on his wrist, he untangled himself slowly, careful not to wake her up as he slipped out of her bed. Closing the door behind him, he padded softly past the door until he got to the kitchen, where he rather swiftly opened the fridge, grabbed a beer, twisted the lid, and dropped in a chair beside Sam.

"We're not leaving tomorrow."

"I know."

There was a beat of silence before Dean said hesitantly, "And you knew this how?"

"There's a series of murders about an hour from here. This wouldn't be a bad home base if it works for Natalie. We've been jumping from state to state every week and personally, I'm tired of running so much. Even a few weeks of just…not driving all the time, you know? I think it would be good for us to stay. And her. If she has these nightmares for a while, and she likely will, it might be good that we stick around. Assure her nothing's coming to get her," And then Sam grinned deviously as he lifted his own beer and added, "And I've seen you watch her."

Dean spluttered in his beer, setting it down on the table harder than technically necessary. "Watch-? No. I haven't been watching her or you or anyone or…No."

"Dean, you watched her so intently at breakfast that her dad asked me if you guys were a thing."

"He did?"

"He did."

"And…did he seem mad about that?"

"Not particularly. I think he likes your car."

The smug look on Dean's face could have sent fan girls into fits of heart attacks.

"But you should actually do something more than just kiss her in hallways if this is going to be a thing."

"I do not just kiss her in hallways!"

"Oh, I'm sorry! And the kitchen."

"I do not!"

"You do so."

"Sam!"

"Dean!"

Silence passed between the two for a moment, the only sound the clicking of bottles on the tabletop, neither one making full eye contact with the other, before Dean finally asked, after clearing his throat rather loudly, "So…What should I do?"

Sam's laughter echoed in the kitchen, but he pushed his beer to the side and leaned across the kitchen table to speak to Dean in whispered tones. Dean sat up, vehemently shaking his head while Sam rolled his eyes and leaned back over to whisper. After several long moments, a bit of a heated discussion, and much eye rolling on both parts, a few calls were made, Dean made a statement involving, "I am  _not_  wearing that!" and Sam retorting with, "Well, you can't wear  _that_."

Natalie woke up a few hours later, alone in her room, and for a moment, she felt her heart sink into her stomach. She had wanted to badly to believe that they would stay at least for a few more days. She had wanted to believe that Dean would at least have the decency to kiss her goodbye. And didn't he say that he wasn't going to leave until she was comfortable on her own? Leaving after she finally fell asleep right after having a panic attack was not staying until she was comfortable. It was leaving when she needed him the most. And what should she have expected? A long lasting relationship? A few dates? Falling asleep tangled around his body, waking up to see his green eyes and freckles? Hearing his heart beat under her ear as she began to sleep off a panic attack?

He was a hunter. He got in his car and drove around saving people and killing things with his brother. He had died, and been revived, multiple times. He had seen every supernatural thing to walk the earth, killing most of them. He had seen, and been through, things she never would. He had had a serious relationship of some form with a woman named Lisa, and she was probably smart and beautiful and totally cool with only seeing her boyfriend/fiancé/husband every few weeks, and completely understanding, and never jealous. She was barely a blip on his radar, and he had taken over her entire world with the first kiss.

And she was 23. She was seven years younger and planning on going to grad school, which meant she couldn't just pick up and follow him all over the road like he would probably want, and she didn't do well with being alone. He was gorgeous, so that meant girls would flirt with him, and she was so possessive over things that were hers. She and Dean came from two different worlds, and as much as she wanted him, she should have known. But it didn't keep her from feeling disappointed, and it didn't keep her from fighting back tears that threatened to fall at any moment. Sitting up, she threw the blankets back angrily, stripping off the rest of her clothes so that she could shower. She had to get Jenny, and now Dean, off of her skin.

Flinging open the door to her bedroom, she found herself face-to-face with Dean, his hand raised to knock on the door. The two stared at each other in silence before Natalie let out a yelp and slammed the door shut, turning and leaning against it to keep it closed, before dropping her head in her hands, blushing furiously. She thought they were gone. It was so quiet, and she had been so angry about them possibly being gone that she hadn't bothered to check before just stripping down and heading to the bathroom. And then Dean had been standing there ready to knock, and she had been absolutely naked. Not a single strip on. And then they had just stared at each other instead of actually speaking and then she slammed the door in his face.

There was silence, then a gentle knock on the door. "Natalie?"

She should stay quiet. Pretend she wasn't here.  _He knows you're in here, stupid._

"Nat?"

She had to clear her throat before answering. "Yeah?"

"Are you interested in going to dinner? You know. After you get dressed? With me?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings for um…rough sex? And some cursing. That's about it. :)

 

Natalie didn't answer. And how could she? She had just woken up from a nap saddened and angry, thrown off all threads of clothing in a rage, and flung her door open, only to find herself face-to-face with the object of her rage (who didn't deserve any rage at all because he was actually still here and hadn't disappeared while she had been asleep, so the anger was entirely pointless). And he had seen everything. Quite literally everything. So she could just add that to the list of unconventional things she had done with Dean. Shot rock salt at things that looked like children, drawn satanic looking symbols on her floor, cut the head off her biological mother, burned a body in the middle of the Oklahoma prairie…Met face-to-face with one of the hunters stark-naked, only for Dean to ask her to dinner. Dinner!

"Nat?"

"Yeah," she shot back as she dove across the room for the pink silk flowered robe her mother had gotten her last year, and that she had never worn. A little late to put on a robe, but whatever. She opened the door with caution, her cheeks hot as she tucked her hair behind her ears and raised her eyes slowly to meet Dean's. Leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed across her chest, she murmured, "So…um…dinner."

"Dinner," Dean retorted, his tone so casual it was as if he hadn't just seen her exposed. As if he hadn't had a door slammed in his face, and is if he didn't have an embarrassed woman in front of him. "That thing where you eat with a romantic interest there."

"Like a date?"

"Sweetheart," he said, raising an eyebrow, "Does it sound like a date?"

Okay. So it was a date. With Dean Winchester. The guy with the gun and the cute butt and the face and the freckles. Natalie joined the club of slow nodding instead of speaking, before finally saying with more trepidation and hesitancy than she had all week, "Okay."

"Okay? So, yes?"

"Yes," she said firmly, her cheeks hot again. This time, with pleasure instead of embarrassment.

"Perfect. Sam took the impala to Clinton, so if you don't mind, I'm going to borrow your car and go away so that you can get ready, and I'll come back and get you at seven."

"Deal."

Without another word, Dean leaned across the space between them and kissed her, then turned and sauntered down the hallway, stopping to grab her car keys from the Christmas present shaped bowl. As soon as he closed the front door behind him, Natalie dove for her phone, flipping through her contacts, hitting call, and waited with anxiety.

"Stacia? I have a problem. Remember how I told you I was having some friends stay with me? Okay, well. They're guys. Brothers, actually. And they're going to stay for another week or two, which is fine, you know, since you won't be here or anything, so there aren't going to be too many people here, but um. One of them, Dean, he's gorgeous. Like, would make you melt gorgeous, and he asked me to go to dinner with him, and-" Natalie had to hold the phone away from her ear as her roommate screamed. Hesitating, she put the phone back to her ear with caution and continued, "Anyway. I have no idea what to wear."

Natalie listened to her best friend babble for a moment before laughing. "Okay. Which one? Oh, the one from girl's night? Okay. Shoes? No, I don't have those anymore. Okay, yeah I still have those. Hair? Ugh. So much work. Okay. Okay. Yes, I know. Got it. Love you, bye."

Crossing the hall at a quick clip, she stepped in the bathroom, dropping her phone in the iHome and hitting play. As the opening strains of Taylor Swift's new album began, she turned and flipped on the hot water, before turning back to look at herself in the mirror. With a deep sigh, she dropped the robe and began to inspect her skin. She had bruises across her arms and legs. Scratches across her torso and hips. And the scars on her hips, thighs, and forearms. Natalie blushed with embarrassment, regardless of the fact that she was alone. What would he say when he saw them clearly? Or felt them, should they get to that point? Would he ask about them, or would he know upon sight what they were and stay quiet? Would he be like the guys in the past that tried to convince her that she shouldn't do it anymore "for him"? As if stopping for herself wasn't enough?

Stepping in the shower, she closed her eyes under the stream from the shower head and closed her eyes. She could feel her muscles relaxing and her tension ebb away. She was going to do everything in her power to enjoy tonight. No negative thoughts. No wondering when he was going to tuck tail and run away. No anger, no bitterness. She was going to get dressed up and she was going to go on a date with a gorgeous guy that found her interesting. And if things went well, she'd see just how late this evening would go. But she would be in a good mood, damn it. So she showered as fast as she could, shaved as carefully as possible, and stepped out of the shower in a pretty short amount of time. Then drying off and wrapping herself in a towel, she dropped down to sit on the fuzzy bath mat and pulled open the bottom drawer.

It was full of a ridiculous amount of fingernail polish, manicure sets, rhinestones for decoration, nail polish pens, base and top coats, and their her and Stacia's individual makeup bags. Selecting a handful of items, she closed the drawer and got comfortable. She was going to be here a while.

Forty-five minutes later, her nails were dry, her hair was almost dry, her body moisturized, her straightener was hot, and she headed back across the hall to get dressed. She hummed along with the track playing loudly from the bathroom and she laid out a black lace dress that hit just above the knee and had a v-neckline that showed off her cleavage in a classy manner. Black heels were on the floor in front of the dress as she opened her dresser to pull out underwear and a bra. But when she opened the door and dug for her favorites, she found a small, dark blue box. Frowning and adjusting so that her towel stayed up, she pulled the box out and examined it. She had never seen it before. It was small; it fit in the palm of her hand. The lid was solid blue; the box itself was a blue flowered pattern. When she tried to open the lid, it refused to budge. This was odd, considering that it looked like a simple, easy to open, box. She flipped it around, looking for a latch or lock, only to find nothing. And when she shook it, she didn't hear anything at all. Shrugging, she placed it on top of her dresser and continued getting ready.

Over the next hour or so, she worked on her hair, her makeup, her jewelry options, making sure the dress looked perfect from every angle, and that her legs looked long, and tan, as she slipped them into the heels. As she stood in front of her mirror, she let out a deep sigh, nervous and excited at the same time. When there was a knock on her front door, she jumped, grabbed her clutch off her desk, and ran to the front door, leaving the box on top of her dresser.

When she got to the front door, she paused, sucking in a breath of air to calm her nerves. And when she opened the door, she felt all the air leave her body.

He looked gorgeous. Dressed in a pristine black suit, white shirt, and a blue striped tie, he looked perfect. His eyes sparkled brilliantly, a beautiful green. His freckles dotted the bridge of his nose and across his cheekbones, intermittent with his scruff. And when he blushed upon seeing her, she felt her heart flutter in her chest. She twisted the lock and pulled the door shut behind her, accepting Dean's extended arm as he escorted her to her own car.

Later at Boulevard Steakhouse, a place that had been far too nice for Natalie to consider going to by herself, she waited until the waiter finished filling their water glasses to lean across the table. "Dean, this is…really nice. We could've just gotten pizza and hung out at the apartment or something."

"But then I wouldn't have gotten to see you in that dress."

She could feel the blush of pleasure spreading across her cheeks as she flicked her eyes back to the menu. God, he was good. A nervous sigh built in her chest as she fought to not stare at him instead of the menu. She had a thousand questions she wanted to ask him. About his work with Sam, about growing up, about his likes and dislikes, his favorite moments, and the worst moments. And then before she could stop herself, she dropped the menu back on the table and leaned towards Dean, her arms crossed over the top of the menu. "Okay. So demons are real. What about dragons?"

"Yes. And they steal virgins."

"Witches?"

"Yes, and they're crazy and disgusting."

"Um…Angels?"

"Angels are dicks."

"Unicorns?"

"I've never seen one personally, but I've seen evidence of them."

Natalie laughed happily, flipping her hair off her shoulder just in time for the waiter to return with beers. It was crazy to think that all of these things, all of these fantasy things that she had spent her childhood reading about, fantasizing about, were real. And it was odd to think that the things that she had questioned were also true. Angels and demons, for example. She should make a note to ask him about God. As the waiter pulled out a notepad to take their order, she couldn't help watching his face. His eyes flicked from the menu to the waiter, then to her. His face broke into a grin when he saw her watching, his eyes dancing. He was so beautiful.

And when Natalie took her turn ordering, she didn't notice how he was watching her. Noting every move and action. He noticed the way that she threw her entire body into laughing. Her head tipped back and her hair rippled in the light. She would close her eyes and clap when something was particularly funny. She blushed when she was pleased, embarrassed, or angry. Her eyes were dark, and serious, but when she laughed, they were warm and welcoming. She smelled like home.

When the waiter left with their orders, she leaned back towards Dean, her chin resting on her palm. "Okay, so…what about God? Does he exist?"

There was a beat of silence as Dean struggled with his words. "Yes and no. Not in the way that most people think of God as being. In fact, he pretty much went AWOL during the apocalypse that Sam and I started. And then one time our friend Castiel was God for a while."

Natalie stared at Dean for a moment before saying slowly, wide eyed, "Okay. There's a lot of what you just said that is very confusing for me. You and Sam started the apocalypse?"

"Yes."

"And…how's that going?"

"It's complicated. You know what? I'll just get you the Supernatural book that details…all of that. It'll explain it in more detail than I'll be able to."

"Speaking of! How did these Supernatural books happen? Did you or Sam write them?"

"No, our friend Chuck did."

"And how did Chuck know what happened to you in such detail that he was able to write best-selling books about it?"

"He's a prophet."

"A prophet?"

"Yes."

The easy banter continued through the rest of dinner, as they made their way through steaks and sides and drinks. Natalie would ask a question about the Supernatural world and Dean would answer in the best way that he could. It was an honest conversation, thanks to the fact that Natalie had firsthand experience with the supernatural. At one point during dinner, she thought to ask him about Lisa. Who she was and why her friend's little sister would talk about how much she loved "Dean and Lisa". She wanted to know more about his mother. His life growing up taking care of Sam. How he had managed to cope with all of the crap he had been dragging himself through. How many times he had died, and how, and how he came back. Instead, she kept it simple. Serious conversation was always better after midnight.

As lovely as dinner was, she was itching to get closer to Dean. She wanted to touch his face, count his freckles, feel his lips on her skin. She felt her skin flush at the thought combined with Dean's steady gaze. Did nothing faze him? Dropping her eyes to her plate, she tucked her hair behind her ear and said with hesitation, "So…Is Sam coming back tonight?" It wasn't really that she cared at all, it was more that she wanted as much time alone with Dean as she could get.

"No. He's going to stay there for a few days, do all of the preliminary evidence and interviewing, and then if he needs help with anything, he'll call me. I'm all yours."

Natalie grinned at the tabletop when Dean spoke his last sentence. All hers. As she took her final gulp of beer, she made a decision that she had been struggling with since the first night of sitting in the kitchen with Dean. She was going to let whatever happened happen. Really happen. She wasn't going to think about him leaving in a week or two. She wasn't going to think about the piece of herself that would leave with him. She wasn't going to overthink anything. If this evening ended with Dean in her bed, then so be it.

All too soon, the bill was paid and Dean had his fingers linked with hers as he escorted her to her car again. It was a warm, pleasant night. The Oklahoma sky, clear of smog, sparkled back brilliantly. The breeze was just cool enough to eliminate the stickiness of summer, and his hand was just steady enough to eliminate the sickness in her stomach. Would she ever get over the murder that she committed? When they got to the passenger's side door of her car, Dean let go of her hand to wrap both arms around her waist and pull her flush against his chest. He kissed her so gently that she had to grip the lapels of his jacket to keep from collapsing in a heap in the parking lot. He pulled away slowly, causing her to groan loudly.

"Want to go for a drive? Get out of this town for a little bit?"

"Sure," Natalie replied softly, stepping back to allow Dean room to unlock her door. Sliding in the seat, she pulled her phone out of her clutch as he walked around to the driver's side door. There was a text from Stacia and a missed call from her cousin, but nothing that looked too incredibly important. Dropping it back in her clutch, she directed Dean towards the best way to get out of town, sighing happily. The music playing in the background made the entire scene seem like she was in a dream. Or better yet, a music video. She had always pretended that she was in a music video during her childhood, with headphones in, riding in the backseat or on the bus. And now, in a pretty dress, with a gorgeous guy, on a beautiful summer night, it couldn't be more perfect.

They drove for a while, late enough that the final stripe of orange from the sunset faded to black. Natalie, at some point, missed a second phone call from her cousin, too wrapped up in her date to notice. On their way back to her apartment, Natalie's eyes lit up. "Turn here!" she said quickly. After a serious of short directions, they stopped in front of a small white house, with a barrier of trees instead of a fence, a small covered porch, and a small flowerbed. She jumped out of the car, waving for Dean to follow her. As the two made their way to the front porch, she glanced around to confirm no one was spying, and punched in the four digit code to the key box that was locked on the front door. Extracting the door key, she said softly, "This is the place I'm planning on renting. I memorized the door code when I came to check it out."

Flipping on the light in the entry way, they blinked in the sudden brightness at the gleaming wood floors and light blue walls. Grinning happily, she shut the door behind Dean, explaining the rooms as she walked by them. Living room, bedroom, bathroom, second bedroom, kitchen, library…Her eyes sparkled as she explained what she would put where and how she wanted to line the windowsill above the kitchen sink with succulents. She wanted to get a pet, probably a cat, so that she wouldn't be alone. And she was going to stock the library, floor to ceiling, with books. It was everything she had been looking for, nestled on the edge of town. As they stepped in the kitchen, she turned to lean against the counter, her eyes suddenly serious as they focused on Dean for the thousandth time that night.

"Dean?" she started softly, her cheeks burning in the kitchen light.

"Mhm," he murmured as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, twining his arms around her waist, sparking the fire in the pit of her stomach again.

"Do you and Sam have a home?"

He froze. His lips stopped moving and his hands stopped running up her spine. It was like he had just shut off. And she was too scared to say anything else. Too scared to admit that maybe she had misjudged the situation. They had only been around each other for a few days, but she and Sam had an easy banter and there was something about Dean that just felt right. And now she was going to mess everything up before anything had really happened. She was just about to tell him to forget she had said anything when he spoke.

"Not really." His voice was gruff. Painful. "But we have each other."

She nodded slowly, her words fighting past the lump in her throat. "When I get this house, because I will…You can always come back here. There's room. And Oklahoma is a great central place to be. We're right on the center of I-35, I-40, I-44, Route 66. And I'll leave a key for you so that you can get in, even if I'm not here. Because I know that even though we haven't known each other long, I get you, and you get me, and someday, you're going to need a place to get away to, and I want to be your place."

He was silent, again, so silent she was afraid she had misspoken, and then before she could react, his lips were crashing into hers, more fervent and desperate than they had been ever before. He pushed her back against the kitchen counter, his thumbs digging into her hips, which she tried desperately to push against his. He nipped her lower lip, causing her to gasp, which he then took advantage of. Her hands reached up to grab the back of his head, her fingers twisting in his hair, pulling at the short strands at the base of his neck. He responded in turn by reaching up to grab a fistful of her hair, pulling it down so that her head tilted back, exposing her neck. He bit and kissed along her neck, leaving small marks trailing his lips, and her labored breaths following closely behind.

When he ran his hands down her arms, across her hips, down her thigh, she could felt her hands shaking. But she had enough sense to pause, pressing her hands against his chest to whisper, "Do you have a condom?" She felt him stop, hesitating, trying to think quickly, but before he could speak, she pulled back, her face serious. "Dean Winchester, I will make you apple pie, and give you a place to call home, and I will absolutely have sex with you, but not without a condom. Now, unless you have one with you, we need to go home. Because I do have one. Just not with me."

Without another word, he gripped her hand firmly and half led/half drug her to the front door, Natalie laughing and trying to flip off lights on the way. As she locked the front door behind her and locked the key back in the key box, she let out a squeal of happiness when he swept her off her feet and carried her to the car, placing her gently on the ground before opening her door. "Get in. Please."

They had barely stepped through her front door before Dean's lips were back on hers, she tried, through the frantic kissing, to get the front door closed. Not bothering to lock it, she kicked her heels off in the foyer, dropping her clutch on the entry table. Dean's suit jacket followed, then his tie. Laughing as she pushed him toward her room, she stopped in her bathroom to grab the foil packet before hurrying back across the hallway. When she stepped back in her darkened room, she froze. Dean wasn't on the bed, which meant that he was probably-And then before she could finish her thought, he dove out of the dark, wrapping around her in a bear hug as they came crashing down on her bed, Natalie's shrieks echoing in the hallways, followed by their laughter. Dean bowed his head to kiss her neck again, as Natalie intertwined her legs with his, hooking them so that when she pressed her hips against his and rolled, she was suddenly on top, straddling his hips. Leaning over to kiss Dean, her dark hair falling like a curtain around their faces, she could feel how hard her heart was beating. When she put her hands on his chest, she could feel the steady thump in his chest and felt her cheeks warm.

For a moment, she didn't move, to enraptured by his beautiful eyes to do anything but stare. And then she felt his hands on her hips, the heat of his fingertips burning through the thin lace of the dress. There was a pause, a breath, and then their lips crashed together, like storm and sea, so dizzying that she could feel her chest aching with the desire for more, while her mind spun dangerously, trying to pinpoint every moment. To commit every detail to memory. She didn't want to forget this, ever.

Dean's hands traveled down her hips and thighs to the hem of her dress. His thumb slid across the skin right under the hem, causing goosebumps to ripple across her skin behind his touch. And then both hands slid under her dress, his palms pressed to the outsides of her thighs. She leaned down to brush her lips against his, stopping when she heard him mutter, "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

Was she okay with this? Yes and no. She trusted Dean, she wanted him, she knew that if she was uncomfortable, he'd stop. But she also knew that he wasn't going to stay forever. He was going to leave at some point, and she would have to be okay with that. It was going to be a hard loss. It was going to ache, and it was going to tear at her, and it was going to be absolutely miserable. She would probably stay in bed for several days straight after he left. Stacia would have to coax her out of bed with food and alcohol. In fact, alcohol would probably become her vice. She would walk away from this with scars, and he was so worth it.

"Yes," she murmured. And as soon as she did, her dress was pulled over her head and tossed into the dark. And then before she could react, they had rolled again and Dean was on top. He dipped his head and nipped and kissed across her collarbones and breasts. She tried, as well as she could with the current circumstance, to unbutton his dress shirt. Dean rocked back on his knees to finish unbutton his shirt, his eyes focused on Natalie's face. When he pushed the shirt off his shoulders and reached down to unbutton his pants, she reached up and traced the edges of the tattoo on his chest. "What does this mean?"

He laughed softly as he maneuvered around her to push his clothes to the floor, "Anti-possession. Demons don't need permission to enter your body, and this keeps them from possessing you. Sam has one too. In the long run, probably a good idea to consider one."

She thought for a moment that the idea of demon possession deserved more of a conversation, and opened her mouth to speak, when Dean's lips were on her skin again, and instead of words leaving her mouth, it was groans. His hands slipped behind her back and skillfully unhooked her bra, tossing it somewhere to join the rest of their clothing. He kissed down her chest before biting gently across her breasts, sucking and licking. Natalie gripped Dean's hair with one hand, her other hand pressed against his anti-possession tattoo. She was so caught up in the feel of his mouth that she didn't noticed his hand sliding down her torso and hip, until his fingers rubbed her through her panties. She fought under his weight to push her hips up towards his fingers, biting down on her lip when she couldn't get enough pressure. Dean's hands were too gentle, too careful.

"Dean," she moaned, running her hand that had been pressed against his chest down his torso, as she slid her thumb across the waistband of his boxers. "Please don't be gentle."

As soon as the words left her mouth, he switched the pressure in his fingertips. It hurt, but not enough to cry out. Just enough that she knew his fingerprints would leave bruises across her hips and thighs, mixed with the bruises from their hunt. Only they would know which bruises were from which act.

Dean's fingers hooked the edges of her panties, pulling them off swiftly and tossing them out of the way. Before Natalie could think about being self-conscious, worry about him seeing the scars on her legs, his hand was between her thighs, and his thumb brushed against her clit. When she pushed her hips up to meet his hand, he quickly slid two fingers in, pausing only briefly to allow her to adjust before setting off at a steady pace, his fingers curling and uncurling, the heel of his palm brushing her clit with every push in. His free hand tangled in her hair, grabbing a fistful before pulling her head back to expose her neck. He bit down gently on her neck, causing her to grab fistfuls of the sheets.

So slightly that she nearly missed it, he would increase the speed of his hand and the grip on her hair at the same time. Never before had foreplay been this intense. As she tried desperately to match the speed of her hips with his hand, she felt her body begin to tighten and buzz. Her lips parted as she moaned softly, "Dean…"

And then everything stopped. His hand was gone and he was no longer holding on to her hair. Aggravation filled her head as she started to sit up. But before she could, Dean's hands grabbed her waist, gesturing for her to roll over. Her heart was beating so fast that she could barely hear the instructions he was whispering in her ear.

"Roll over, legs apart. Now."

With a lump of anxiety and desperation blocking her speech, she nodded. Dean grabbed her face, pulling it close to his. "Yes,  _sir_ ," he whispered, his breath hot on her lips.

Natalie almost nodded, then caught herself, quickly replying, albeit softly, "Yes, sir." Dean kissed her fiercely before stepping back so that she could roll over. When she did, she heard a soft ruffling of fabric, and then his hands were on her hips again, pulling her across the bed so that her knees were on the edge of the bed, Dean standing behind her. She was bent forward, her palms resting flat on the bed. He leaned forward running one hand up her spine that sent chills through her body, causing her to shiver. As one hand settled on the sweet spot between her shoulder and neck, the other hand caressed her thigh gently, before gliding over to her ass.

"Are you going to listen?"

"Yes."

A smacking sound filled the room as his hand collided with her skin. Her skin stung and she had to keep from crying out.

"I'm sorry. Yes, sir."

"What do you want?"

When she didn't reply, he spanked her again, and again, her skin stung.

"You, sir."

"I'm sorry?"

She cleared her throat, her arms shaking in anticipation. "You, sir."

"What do you want me to do?"

At this, his hand slipped down between her legs, brushing her clit gently, a thousand nerve endings sending shockwaves through her body. When she pushed back against his hand, he spanked her again. Dropping her head so that her hair hung in front of her face again, she said quietly, desperately, "Please fuck me, sir."

Dean didn't ask for further clarification at this. There was a pause as he opened the foil packet that she had dropped on the bedside table, rolling it on quickly. And then while Natalie was distracted with the soft buzzy feeling of her skin, he pulled her hips close, and entered her slowly. Natalie moaned, pushing back against his hips desperately, trying to find a rhythm. It didn't take long before her entire body was shaking as she tried as hard as she could to hold herself together. Dean leaned forward, wrapping one arm around her waist to hold her close, the other hand reaching forward to wrap a hand around her throat, gently. The point was not to close off her airway, but to slow the amount of air she was taking in.

The feeling of Dean filling her, wrapped around her body, his hand on her throat, breathing-no, moaning in her ear was enough in and of itself to make her cum. As she tried to increase the speed, she felt her walls start to tighten. Dean squeezed a little tighter, whispering in her ear, "Not yet, kitten. Hold on."

She squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers clutching the sheets with all the strength she could. Dean's thrusting increased and she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. And then just when she thought she couldn't hold on anymore, he whispered, "Now."

She came on command. Crying out, unable to hold in in, she collapsed against Dean, her entire body shaking, her skin stinging, tears welling in her eyes from pleasure. As she and Dean collapsed in a heap on her bed, panting heavily, she reached up to brush the tears from her eyes. She wasn't sad. This wasn't because she was upset, or felt abused. It was because it had been so incredibly perfect.

Dean kissed her shoulder gently, all dominance having left his body. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he sighed softly, his breath hot on her shoulder. "Natalie? Doing okay?"

Natalie nodded slowly, too tired to even move properly without running out of breath. "I'm great, Dean. Perfect." And then rolling over so that she could see his face, she sighed softly and kissed him fiercely. "You are perfect."

"I do my best," he said casually, an arrogant grin spreading across his lips.

She laughed, rolling her eyes as she reached up to trace the lines around his eyes, a pleased smile tracing her lips. "You called me kitten."

"You said you didn't like Princess."

"I don't. Kitten was…Kitten was good."

Dean grinned, and then stood with a groan, scooping Natalie so that he could better arrange her against her pillows. Pulling the sheets up to her chest, he kissed her forehead before walking out of the room. She was about to call after him in confusion, when she heard him bustling around in the bathroom. He returned a few moments later with a glass that sat on her sink full of water and two ibuprofen in his palm. He waited for her to swallow the pills before moving the glass to the table to slide into the bed next to her. As she readjusted so that she was in the perfect spot against his side, his arm across her shoulders, she sighed softly, closing her eyes.

There was nothing but silence in the room for several long minutes before Natalie opened her eyes in the dark and said softly, "Pie?"

"Oh yeah."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Discussions of self-harm, eating disorders, sexual assault/harassment, mental abuse, etc. Basically, it's going to be a little bit of a rough chapter.

Natalie grinned as she crawled over Dean's body, stooping to scoop up his dress shirt from earlier tonight and swing it around her shoulders, shoving her arms through the holes and buttoning it enough to keep it closed. As she hurried through the dark hallway, she called over her shoulder, "You'll save me if something grabs me in the dark, right?"

"Of course," Dean yelled from her room as she pulled open the refrigerator to retrieve the pie. "Just bring me pie first!"

She laughed, her head tipped back so that her dark hair brushed the edges of her ribs. She balanced the pie pan in one hand, opening the silverware drawer to grab a couple of spoons (for maximum apple pie scoopability), and then turned and stood on her tiptoes to open the cabinet above the stove. Sliding out a rather large bottle, she tucked it under her arm, grabbed the spoons and tiptoed back to her room, careful not to drop any of her bounty.

"Okay, will you flip on the lamp on the side table?" She asked happily as she slid carefully over the carpet, feeling in the dark for dresses and pants and ties.

There was a clicking sound and light filled the corner of the room, illuminating Dean's shirtless chest, his anti-possession tattoo standing out boldly against his skin. His freckles were hidden in the shadows, but his eyes sparked when he saw the collection of items in Natalie's hands. He pulled himself up against the pillows, crossing his legs under the covers like a small child. Natalie grinned and dropped the bottle on the bed before climbing up behind it. Sitting across from Dean, facing him, she sat with her legs crossed as well, Dean's shirt draped down to her thighs.

"I have pie," she announced as she placed it dramatically between them, "Two spoons, and a bottle of Jack."

Dean stared at the collection for a moment before raising his eyes to hers in mock admiration. "Where have you been all my life?"

"Here. Waiting." She replied seriously, her dark eyes sparkling. "Took you long enough, Winchester. Can't leave me now." She was only half kidding. But maybe if she made it sound like a joke, he wouldn't realize how attached she had grown in 48 hours. And when he laughed, she knew that it had worked. He thought she was joking.

Adjusting comfortably on the bed, she grabbed a spoon and scooped a bite out of the pie, chewing thoughtfully before asking, "Tell me about Sam."

Dean chewed for a moment, shrugging halfheartedly. "What do you want to know about him?"

"Whatever you want to share. I mean…I don't know a lot about him. He seems sad."

Dean snorted, nodding slowly. "Well. Let's just say that you're lucky you had sex with me and not him. And not just because I'm sexier. Even though I am."

Natalie tilted her head quizzically, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Explain."

"I have green eyes, and nice abs, and I can do this thing where I-"

"No," Natalie interrupted, giggling, "Explain about Sam."

"Oh, Sam," Dean teased, scooping another bite of pie. Mulling for a moment, he said carefully, "Pretty much everyone that Sam has ever loved has died or been a monster."

"What?" Natalie said suddenly, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Jessica died the same way our mother did, Meg's complicated, but she was a demon, Lori was summoning a spirit that killed multiple people, Sarah died a few years ago, Madison was a werewolf, Amy was a kitsune, Ruby was a demon, and Annie died. Cara, Amelia, Sparrow, and Lana all lived, but the only relationship out of the three that really meant anything was Amelia, and Sam chose to leave her because it was too complicated," Dean spouted off casually, ticking the girls off on his fingers as he named them, at one point stopping to put his spoon down so that he could continue the visual when his first hand ran out of fingers to count on. When he finished his recitation of Sam's relationships, he glanced back up at Natalie, gauging her reaction.

"The fuck?" She said softly, her spoon poised in midair. "Does the man get no love?"

With a halfhearted chuckle, he said softly, "Not really. Not without some pain."

"Oh, no," Natalie said quickly, frowning as she reached for the whiskey, "Pain is a breakup. Pain is being cheated on. Pain is a fight that ends in words that feel like a slap across the face. Consistently having every person you've ever taken a chance on die, become a monster, or not last more than a night is pretty devastating. Have all of yours turned out that way?"

When she spoke, she noted the changes in Dean's posture. His jaw tightened, his eyes focused on anything except her in his shirt, his grip on the spoon tightened. His shoulders tensed and his breathing became just the slightest bit shallower. He swallowed hard before saying softly, "Not quite."

She could feel the tension in the room shift ever so slightly, and felt the pang of regret in her chest that she often felt when thinking of her own past mistakes. The fact that he wouldn't look at her, or that he was breathing so softly, or that he was sitting more still than she had seen him ever before made her feel guilty. She shouldn't have brought it up yet. Chewing on her lower lip for a moment, she weighed between her options. She could change the subject, or she could empathize. Empathy it was.

"My first boyfriend was James. He was a few years older than me, and he was smart, and funny, and talented, and had the most beautiful blue eyes. And he was also abusive and incredibly manipulative." Natalie paused to suck in a deep breath, "He was bipolar, so one minute he'd be the kindest, sweetest person in the world, and the next minute, he was recommending that I hurt myself. He told me that he loved me after a month of dating, and I told him that as much as I liked him, I couldn't possibly love him, because I didn't know him that well yet. He stomped off, and two hours later, his friend Matt called to ask if I had heard from him. When I said we had gotten in a fight, he took off to find him, and when they did, he was at their old hangout under the bridge, his arms and legs covered in cuts." Sucking in a shaking breath, Natalie continued, "I started cutting that night myself. I was thirteen."

"When I was fifteen, I met Alex at camp. He was originally from Pennsylvania but was visiting his brother here in Oklahoma. He wasn't my type at the time, but he was so funny. We started talking every night, and we would write letters to each other throughout the school day, then type them up and email them to each other when we got home from school. I stopped self-harming for the most part at that point in time, because I was happy and had no need to. I started planning my future, at fifteen, sixteen years old, on what I wanted it to be with him. But a week after my seventeenth birthday, he was killed in a car accident."

"I struggled with self-harm all through high school, sometimes going as much as nine or ten months without doing anything, sometimes not being able to last a day without cutting or messing with the cuts I already had. Most of the time, they were minor. They'd heal pretty quickly and only leave minor scars. Coupled with my physical self-harm was an eating disorder. I was 5' 5" and didn't hit 110 pounds until my senior year of high school, and that was only because I went to a summer camp with the highway patrol and did thousands of pushups that week, building muscle. That's not to say I was overly obsessed with my weight. I did eat much like I do now; sweets, pizza, burgers…My favorite food was cheese fries. I was just careful to make sure that my weight didn't get too high. I didn't even realize it was a problem. I was so conditioned to think that I was only valuable or crush-worthy if I was thin that it became second nature to make sure that I stayed thin."

By this point, Dean had stopped staring at the nearly empty pie plate and had focused his eyes on her face, his brow furrowed in concentration and concern. She wanted to reach out and touch his face, to comfort him, as if it were his own pain etched across his face. But instead, she continued.

"I didn't date seriously through high school at all, mainly because the boys that I liked happened to like other people. One boy used to call me to talk every day, and then after three months of talking every night suddenly had a girlfriend. A pretty blonde cheerleader that was so sweet, I couldn't even hate her. He called me the day after I found out to tell me that I was 'absolutely amazing and beautiful' and that he just wasn't the right person for me. Another guy was one of my closest friends. He knew I liked him, would take me out to lunch or dinner on a regular basis, but would never put a label on it. When I moved here for my freshman year of college, he just suddenly quit talking to me."

"Wait a second," Dean interjected, holding a hand up to pause Natalie, "So far you've had an emotionally abusive boyfriend that encouraged you to hurt yourself, a boyfriend that was killed, an eating disorder, a guy that ditched for you someone else, and a guy that ditched you for college."

"Correct."

"Well," he said simply, leaning back against the headboard, his arms crossed across his chest, "That's complete bullshit. All of that on top of having a crazy bitch for a biological mother-no offense. There are some asses I would love to kick."

"None taken," she responded simply, her smile lighting her eyes as she reached for the whiskey once again. When Dean extended her hand to take it when she was done, she passed him the bottle before continuing.

"There's more. There was a boy from West Point that would sexually harass me via text messages. When I had finally had had enough, I went to the police department to see what they could do. I was told, word for word, that I could file a restraining order but it was 'only a piece of paper' and if he got kicked out of West Point, which was likely, he would probably blame me and come find me. So I didn't do anything, and eventually, he quit messaging me. If you and Sam are ever in New York, feel free to stop by. I'll give you his name. You are more than welcome to kick his ass." Snagging the bottle back from Dean, she took another drink before screwing the lid back on. "I didn't tell you all of this to feel bad for me necessarily. And I didn't say it to make you feel like you have to stay here and protect me. Because since I've been through all of those things, I'm strong. I work my ass off to make sure that I and my family are taken care of. And just last night, I cut off the head of the horrible woman that was torturing me and burned her body on the prairie. My point in all of this is to say that it sounds like we've all had our pain. But we're all surviving, taking it all day by day. Am I right? Or no?"

Dean watched her in silence for a moment, and she could feel the heat creeping up her neck. She had just bared her soul and he was staring at her, his green eyes boring a hole through her chest. With her palms sweating and her hands beginning to shake, she reached down to grab the bottle and the pie plate, to busy herself with mundane tasks so she didn't look like an idiot, when his hands closed over hers, carefully pulling the items out of her hands and placing them on the floor. When they were safely moved, he wrapped his hands around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest. As they settled into a comfortable position, her ear on his chest, his arms around her, he kissed her head softly. "Where did you come from?"

 _Where did_ _ **you**_ _come from?_ She wanted to ask him.  _I've been here for years_. Curling against his chest like a cat, she closed her eyes and let the feelings from today wash over her. The date had been wonderful. Viewing the house she wanted to buy with Dean felt perfect. The sex was amazing. She felt terrible for Sam, and she was finally accepting her own past. Everything was perfect, except that he would be leaving soon and she really didn't want to think about that. Especially when she knew that she wasn't going to recover from this. And…she still didn't know about him. She knew a bit about his father, that his mother died when he was young, and that he wasn't close with anyone except Sam and his car. And she still didn't know who Lisa was.

Laying in silence in the early morning hours for a few minutes, their breathing synchronizing in the lamp light, Natalie spoke suddenly, her eyes still closed, "I want to do something for Sam tomorrow. Wasn't his birthday a few months ago?"

"Like a stripper?"

"What?" she snapped, her eyes flashing open. "No. Something else. What does he like?"

"Exercise, lettuce, water."

"He sounds like a rabbit.

"He is."

"What else?"

"Nerd stuff."

"Eh…what else?"

"Dogs?"

"That!" Natalie said, sitting up suddenly, her eyes bright, her cheeks blushing with happiness. "A dog!"

"No. He doesn't need a dog."

"Yes he does. His dog isn't likely to turn into a monster or leave after one night, and although it might die, it's different. Can I get him a dog?"

"No."

"Yes."

"No, Natalie."

"Yes, Dean."

"Natalie," He said seriously, his brows raised.

"Dean," she said, mimicking his actions.

"I don't want a dog in the impala."

"Why? Three good reasons."

"It's mine; I don't want it to smell, and no."

"It's his too, it already smells, and yes."

Dean paused, his jaw shifting as he stared at her in silence. "What kind of dog?"

"A good one. Like a German Shepherd, or a Labrador, or a Golden Retriever."

There was another long pause before he finally sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. "Fine. But you owe me for saying yes."

"Yeah?" She said excitedly, climbing up to sit on her knees. "Deal!"

"Yeah."

With a whoop of joy, she kneeled forward, wrapping her arms around Dean's neck. "Yay! Best big brother ever." And then she kissed him. Fiercely, passionately, thankfully. His hand wrapped behind her neck, the other hand tracing the curve of her jaw. As he leaned back against her headboard, he kept his hand behind her neck and pulled her down with him, Natalie flush against his chest. She reached up to tangle her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, the palm of her other hand pressed against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat. It was comforting; she felt safe. Dean's lips brushed hers gently, but she paused, pulling away for a moment. He frowned in confusion, and then laughed when he saw her yawning widely.

"I think it's time for you to sleep. I can finish this in the morning."

She nodded, yawning again as he adjusted slightly to pull back the blankets for her to crawl under. As she adjusted comfortably against the pillows, she blinked at him sleepily. "What about you? Are you going to sleep?"

"Maybe for a few hours, tops. I don't normally sleep all that much."

"But will you stay here with me?"

Dean nodded silently, adjusting so that she could curl against his side. Reaching over the flip the lamp off, there was nothing in the room but the sound of steady breathing and the silver rays of light from the moon outside Natalie's window, the sill conveniently still covered in salt. It was quiet for several long minutes before Natalie spoke softly in the dark. "Dean? Who's Lisa?"

He didn't answer, and she thought for a moment that he had fallen asleep. And then softly, he cleared his throat and said slowly, "She was…" And then he stopped. Natalie counted the number of times his heart thumped before he spoke again. Nine.

"She was this girl. I uh…Met her while I was in Michigan on a hunt and we slept together. And then I left the next day and didn't show up for six more years, and when I did, it was only because there was another supernatural thing in the same town and I thought I'd stop by for a second time around. But she had this kid, Ben. And I swear, he looked just like me. He acted just like me. I thought he was mine, but she swore he wasn't; just that she had a 'type' and I fit it. I left and went back when Sam died. I stayed with her for a year. And then Sam came back, and I left her, at first because she wanted me to, and then when I wanted to go back I couldn't. "

He stopped, pulling in a deep, rattling breath, his chest shaking under her fingertips. Natalie frowned in the dark, listening to his confession, silent.

"This supernatural thing. It's hard. There's always something in the dark waiting, and it when you have a family, or try to have a family, these things, these vermin come out of the woodwork and attack at every angle they can. And I couldn't do that to her. I couldn't let her or Ben get hurt anymore. So I-" Pause. Six heartbeats. "I had their memories wiped. They thought they were in a car accident and I hit them." Pause. Ten heartbeats. "They don't even know who I am now."

He sounded so tired. So worn. Despite the fact that Natalie was wiped, she sat up in the dark, straddled his lap, and reached over to take Dean in her arms. He froze for a moment, and then melted against her, his palms flat against her back, the heat rippling through his dress shirt to leave fingerprints unseen on Natalie's body. She pressed her cheeks to his and felt his long eyelashes tickle her cheek when he blinked. He turned and leaned his head against her narrow shoulder and she felt her heart break when he let out a defeated sigh. She had no words to tell him how sorry she was, so the next best thing that she could think of was to sing.

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better-"

But then she felt him freeze up, his breath hitch in his throat, his body go stiff. For a moment she thought that he was angry for some reason (maybe he hated the Beatles?) and then he spoke, his voice cracking.

"How did you-?" A pause, his shoulders shaking slightly, a deep breath, wet with tears, "How did you know?"

"What do you mean? How did I know what?" Her brow furrowed in confusion in concern, but he shook his head, his hand leaving her back to brush across her face. He was quiet for a moment, and then he cleared his throat and replied in a relatively calm voice, albeit husky.

"My mom used to sing us that when we were sick. It was her favorite song."

"Oh," she said softly, her cheeks blushing in shame. "I'm sorry. It just always comforted me when I was sad and I thought...I didn't know. I didn't mean to."

"No, it's okay," he stopped her, reaching up to brush his thumb over her lips. Then hesitantly, "Keep going."

So with trepidation, she slid from his lap to the spot beside him again, curling against his chest, and this time when his arms wrapped around her, she could feel the trembling in his fingertips. Settling comfortably, she started back at the beginning, "Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better…"

When the song came to an end, his breath had steadied, and she was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. When she was almost asleep, the point in sleep when you can hear your surroundings, but you can't manage to open your eyes when she thought, somewhere in the depths of her room, she heard a rattling, a buzzing noise, almost. But instead of opening her eyes, she curled into the warmth of Dean Winchester and fell asleep.

She woke up the next morning to the squeal of a female, profuse apologizes, and Dean's yelp. Her brown eyes snapping open, she rolled over and sat up, rubbing the back of her hand over her eyes.

Her bedroom door was closing, Dean's face was torn between embarrassment and extreme pride, and she could hear her cousin's voice on the other side of the door.

"Nat, I'm so sorry! I called a lot yesterday to tell you I was coming down to go dress shopping and that I wanted you to go with me, and when you didn't answer this morning, I just assumed you were sleeping in and used my spare key to break in. I didn't know you had a…uh…date?"

"No, just…Stay there! Wait!" Natalie thought for a moment, desperate for a few minutes. "Go get me coffee. Please."

"Okay!"

She could hear Krysten tearing down the hallway, the front door slamming behind her. Turning slowly to look at Dean, they made eye contact and roared with laughter. By the time they finally calmed down, Natalie's stomach hurt and there were tears in her eyes.

"What happened?"

"I was checking my phone to see if Sam had called, and your…cousin, was it? Walked in and saw me a little less than dressed. In your bed. With you asleep. In my shirt." His pride was undeniable. It was written all over his face.

Rolling her eyes, Natalie climbed over Dean to get out of bed and get dressed when he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to his side, kissing her fiercely.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Dean," she teased softly, pulling her arm out of his grasp. "You're adorable, and I'd love nothing more than to stay in bed with you all day-"

She chose to ignore his fist pump.

"But Krysten will be back in a little bit, and I'd rather not make this anymore awkward than it needs to be." As she turned to pull underwear out of her drawer, she asked casually, without making eye contact, "Will I see you and Sam at dinner tonight?"

She didn't realize she had been holding her breath until he replied with a cheery, "Yeah. Unless you're kicking us out tonight."

Turning to her closet to pull out a simple V-neck and a pair of jean shorts so that she could hide her grin, she turned and nodded with a casual shrug. "You guys know you can stay as long as you need to. I'd prefer it, actually. There's a spare key under the third planter on the front porch. Feel free to add it to your key ring so you can come and go as you need to."

And then without waiting for a reply, she flounced out of the room and across the hall into the bathroom. As she snapped the door shut behind her, she made eye contact with her reflection in the mirror and noted her flushed cheeks, her sparkling eyes, her messy hair, and her happiness, apparent all over her face. Flipping on the shower, she unbutton Dean's dress shirt and stepped into the hot stream, brushing her hair back from her face.

Showering quickly, running through last night's conversation in her head, she faintly remembered the sound of buzzing on the far side of her room as she was falling asleep. It must've been Krysten calling again. Odd that she would've been up as late as she and Dean had been if she knew she had to be down in Edmond so early in the morning. Brushing the thought off, she finished showering quickly, dressing and pulling her hair up in a tight bun. When she finally stepped out of the shower, Dean was nowhere to be found, and neither was her cousin.

Making her way down the hallway she stopped in the doorway of the kitchen where Dean and Krysten were seated at the table, an open box of donuts in front of Dean, three of which were missing, and three cups of coffee. Taking a seat and reaching for a donut, she made sure not to let her eyes linger too long on Dean's face.

"So," Krysten said happily, her hands wrapped around her to go coffee mug, "Dean was just telling me that he and his brother Sam just recently moved to Edmond and you guys met the other night when a couple of kids scared you. And Sam's studying folklore at UCO?"

Natalie's eyes flashed from the donut in her hand to Dean's face, who was smiling pleasantly at her, his eyes daring her to contradict his story. "No, he's right. I got off work and there were these kids hanging around outside and I freaked. Sam and Dean moved in close by, and Dean offered to sort of hang around to make sure I didn't get scared again."

Krysten's eyes widened in mock acceptance, "So you didn't get scared. Right. Well, good plan, Dean. She didn't look scared when I walked in."

Natalie snorted as she got to her feet, pushing the chair out behind her. "Okay. Enough. Both of you. Dean, Krysten and I are going shopping. What's your plan?"

"I'll probably shower and then call Sam. Find out what research he needs me to work on for our project."

"Great. Can you make sure Sam's in town but not here at six so I can get his surprise ready? And what do you guys want for dinner?"

"Anything's fine, really."

Natalie nodded, then hesitated, the room filling with an awkward silence. She wanted to kiss Dean goodbye, but with Krysten standing there, it all felt incredibly uncomfortable. There was a pause, and then Krysten suddenly jerked, her eyes widening in realization.

"Oh! Right. I'll be in the car."

As she dove for the front door, Dean stood, grinning, his freckles a spattering of constellations across his cheeks. Natalie couldn't help grinning in return as he sauntered around the table, wrapping one arm around her waist to pull her closer. He kissed her gently, and when he did, she felt all the feelings from the night before rise and settle firmly in her stomach. She twined her arms around his neck, tilting her head to the side as she asked, "Where did you come up with that story? About you and Sam?"

"We have all kinds of stories. Likely, we would have told you one if you had met us before you came face to face with those demon children we were tracking. We've been all kinds of things. Priests, FBI Agents, doctors, repair men…"

"Hmm," she replied simply, her dark eyes sparkling in interest. "As much as I'd love to hear about your stories and various occupations, my cousin is waiting. I'll see you tonight?"

"You will," he said simply, and with another kiss, she slipped out the door, her hand trailing on the door handle as she shut the front door behind her.

With a sigh, she started towards her cousin's car, where it sat idling in front of her apartment complex, the words in her head reverberating with each footstep. " _I love him. I love him. I love him._


	11. Chapter 11

Natalie had made it just out of the parking lot when Krysten turned on her. Her hazel eyes sparkling in the sunlight, it wasn't two minutes before both were giggling about Dean. Natalie started with meeting Dean, under the excuse that when she walked home from the library, they walked her back to make sure she was safe, to dinner, to coming back with Dean. To the way he kissed, the taste of red wine on his lips, the constellations of freckles across his nose, and forest green eyes that a girl could get lost in. She was just about to tell her cousin about the mind-blowing sex when she remembered something else about the past night.

"Krys, there's something I need to tell you," Natalie said cautiously. She wanted so desperately to tell someone else about the black-eyed children. "Last night, I-"

But before she could continue, her phone buzzed. Krysten grabbed it from the cup holder, then giggled.

"It's Deannnn."

Natalie laughed, fighting her cousin with one hand for the phone.

"Hey," she said, breathlessly.

"Hi?" Dean responded, his tone pleasantly confused.

"It's just…Krysten. Don't worry about it. What's up?"

"Remember last night?"

"Which part?" she teased, glancing at her cousin with an impish smile.

"You know. You. Me. Your room. My hands in your-"

"Okay!" Natalie interrupted, blushing brilliantly. "Got it."

Dean's laugh resounded over the line, and Natalie's heart melted. "Somewhere between the pie, and your long, beautiful legs, and sleep, I faintly remember telling you that you could buy my brother a dog."

At Natalie's murmur of remembrance, Dean said quickly, "Yeah. You're not buying him a dog."

"But Dean! You said-"

"Nope. Sorry, Princess. Our job doesn't really fit the lifestyle of dog owner."

Natalie sighed in frustration. "Fine."

"Atta girl." And with that, the phone clicked off.

Natalie dropped the phone in her cupholder and sighed. "Change in plans."

Three hours later, Natalie and Krysten stumbled in the door of her apartment, arms heavy with bags. Dropping her keys on the table in the entry way, Natalie snagged a note that was placed carefully under the key bowl.

" _Princess, headed to the library to do some research on hunting. See you tonight. –Dean"_

Suppressing a smile, she turned towards her cousin. "Can you put groceries up? I'm going to start putting decorations up."

When Natalie stepped in her room to grab tape off her desk, she heard the sound again. In the silence, Natalie leaned forward, her ears straining to make out what it was and where it was coming from. It wasn't so much toneless buzzing as it was a…humming? Taking another step into her darkened room, she could just make out the sound coming from her closet. Quietly, carefully, she edged her way towards the closet door, her heart pounding in her fingertips, in her head, so loud, it was almost drowning out the humming. Natalie reached for the closet door, holding her breath so as not to scare whatever…thing was in there, and just as her fingertips brushed the doorknob, a glass shattered in the kitchen. Natalie jumped away from the door, screaming, before she tore down the hallway to check on her cousin.

"Krysten?! Krysten!"

Krysten stepped into the hallway, her cheeks red with embarrassment. "I'm  **so**  sorry. I was putting stuff up and got out a mixing bowl, and when I turned around there was this really tall, gorgeous guy walking past your kitchen window and the bowl just…fell."

Natalie pressed a palm to her chest in an attempt to still her heart and breath. "Sam," she managed.

"What?"

"You saw Sam. Yea tall, dark hair, puppy dog eyes?"

"Yeah."

"Sam."

As Natalie stepped into the kitchen to help clean up the mess, she cast one terrified glance at her room. Something wasn't right in there.

Krysten ran a brush over Natalie's hair, sighing happily. "Perfect. I'm a goddess."

Natalie laughed, standing to look at herself in a full length mirror. Skinny jeans, a maroon lace top, brown booties, long, shiny hair…Letting out a full breath, she turned to her cousin. "Why am I so nervous?"

"Because you have to impress the brother, and you can't do that with your boobs? Or…I mean you can, but I like him so that'd suck."

As the two dissolved into giggles, Natalie heard the humming again. She held up to hand to Krysten, who looked nothing less than puzzled. "Do you hear that?"

"No?" she said cautiously, glancing around.

"The humming?"

"Um…no. Jesus," she teased, smacking her cousin's arm, "How late did Dean keep you up last night?"

"Shut up," Natalie retorted, blushing scarlet, waving her cousin to follow her. They had just started setting the table when the boys walked through the door. Sam's eyes lit up at the blue and silver streamers and the cake on the table with "Happy Birthday Sam!" written on it. Natalie had just formally introduced her cousin to Sam, and was about to explain a shared love of books between the two, when Dean grabbed her hand and tugged her into the hallway.

They had barely rounded the corner from the kitchen when Dean pushed Natalie against the wall, his hands gripping her waist tightly. And then his lips were crashing into hers, hot, desperate, passionate. His tongue flicked against her lips, and she fought back a moan. Gripping the folds of his plaid shirt, she pulled back just enough to twist and press his shoulders against the wall. At his confused look, she raised a finger to her lips, glanced towards the kitchen just feet away where Krysten and Sam were chattering about literature, and knelt down in front of Dean, heat rising in her cheeks. Dean's pupils were blown with lust as he bit down on his lower lip. With deft hands, Natalie unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped Dean's jeans. She tugged them down just past his hips, and slipped his cock into her fist. As she stroked, her eyes flashed up to his.

"Don't. Make. A. Sound," she whispered, and at Dean's nod, she took his full length into her mouth, relaxing her throat to take more. As her head bobbed a slow, steady pace, she caressed his balls. Dean's head tipped back against the wall as a hand tangled in her hair. Lightly scratching her teeth to the tip, which she licked seductively, she used her free hand to grab Dean's hand that was in her hair. When he glanced at her, she squeezed her fingers around his, maintaining eye contact. Dean's jaw clenched as his fingers turned into a fist, gripping her hair at the roots, holding her head in place. When she moaned, her lips wrapped around his dick, he had to bite his lip to keep from gasping out loud. When Natalie glanced towards the kitchen to ensure Krysten and Sam were still distracted, Dean grabbed her chin to force her to look up.

His breathing pace increased, and his balls began to constrict. He mouthed silently, "I'm going to cum."

Natalie pulled back just long enough to whisper, "Then cum."

Her lips had just wrapped around the base of his cock when he exploded, his cum hitting the back of her throat, his fist pulled at the hair at the base of her neck, and she let out a soft whimper, her eyes fluttering. As Dean came down from his orgasm, his cheeks flushed and his breathing heavy she swallowed, so as to avoid a mess. Natalie pulled back, wiping her lips on her thumb. Dean tucked himself away, then reached down to help Natalie stand. They slipped back to the bathroom, giggling softly, shutting the bathroom door behind them.

While Natalie brushed her teeth and hair, Dean sat perched against the sink, his green eyes sparkling. "Natalie Lyons, you are unforgettable."

She grinned, dropping her hairbrush in her drawer and wrapped her arms around Dean's neck. As his hands settled around her waist, she leaned forward and kissed him softly. Dean breathed in the scent of sweet peppermint toothpaste, her rose and sandalwood perfume, her coconut shampoo.

"Damn straight, Dean Winchester," she teased. And then seriously, her forehead pressed to his, green eyes on brown, she said softly, "When you're back on the road, and sleeping in cheap hotels, and getting drunk in dumpy bars," she reached into her back pocket, and placed a small medallion in Dean's hand, "Keep this with you. To remember me."

Dean nodded, glancing at the face of the medallion. Something was etched into it in another language, and he frowned when trying to read it.

"Aiemoma," she whispered softly, "Always."

Dean slipped the disc into his pocket, and caught Natalie's lips in another kiss.

Natalie and Dean dodged questions about their disappearance, Dean asking Krysten about her coursework and Natalie asking Sam how he felt about the decorations.

Conversation between the four was easy, comfortable. Wine flowed steadily, and the stories extended deep into the night. It had been hours before Natalie remembered Sam's present. Jumping from the table excitedly, she tore down the hallway and back to her room. She grabbed the wrapped present off her desk and was back to the door when she cast a glance at her closet.

Something, or someone, was in there. And she didn't know what it was, but it had been there since she and the boys had come back from the reservation. It was waiting in her closet, and when she was alone, or almost alone, it would hum. Not a tune, exactly. A rhythm. It hummed a rhythm. With a terrified shutter, she stepped into the hallway and closed the door, running back to the kitchen.

Sam was thrilled with his present. Natalie and Krysten had visited their favorite antique store, scouring the booths. Dean had mentioned that same liked boring things, books, lettuce, learning, etc. In a back booth, under a vase, there was a stack of books, used more for decoration than anything. There was rather large, leather bound book, on Native American legend and folklore. It was split up into sections based on the plains tribes of Oklahoma, and it was ancient.

The party retired to the living room. Sam and Krysten sat on the couch, close, but not too close. Dean and Natalie sat on the loveseat, her legs draped across his. One hand was wrapped around his beer and one rested on Natalie's knees. Sam would interrupt conversation occasionally to read sections of folklore, which in turn started conversations on ghosts stories, of which Sam and Dean had the best.

It wasn't until the four were slurring their words with sleepiness that they finally decided to break the party up. Natalie stood, pulling Dean to his feet and waved goodnight to Krysten and Sam. Intertwining her fingers with Dean's, the two stumbled down the hallway to Natalie's bed, collapsing in a heap of exhaustion.

"I don't want to sleep alone," she whispered, her fingers gripping Dean's shirt, her eyes heavy with sleep.

"I'm right here," he whispered back. "Right here."


	12. Chapter 12: The End

She heard it before she even opened her eyes, while a fragment of her mind was still in a dream-world. It was a slow, steady cadence. It wasn't quite the same beat as a heart, but something so familiar, so reminiscent of her childhood that it made her bones ache. Her mind had almost settled on what the sound was when she heard the sheets next to her rustle, and the real world came into focus. Dean. His scent, the sound of his breathing, the feeling of his flannel shirt under Natalie's fingertips. Her eyes fluttered open only a moment before Dean's did, and when he smiled at her, she felt her heart break, although she only smiled back.

"You're leaving today, right?" she asked softly, her words hanging in the air like morning mist.

He didn't say anything at first, but his emerald eyes darkened just a shade. He nodded so slowly it almost looked like he wasn't so sure himself.

"Dean," she asked cautiously, drawing the blankets up around her shoulders. "Before I said anything just now did you..hear...you know...anything?"

Dean's confusion was unmistakable. "Like?"

Natalie cleared her throat, her eyes darting around her room. "Like...a thumping? But..rhythmic? Sort of? I can't explain it, it's really familiar, but it's not an actual  _noise_  so much as it is a beat. It's almost like it's-"

She stopped in mid sentence, sitting up straight. Her dark hair tumbled across her shoulders and down her back, the sunlight streaming through her window drawing out the red and black undertones. "Drums," she whispered.

"Sorry, Princess?" Dean asked, sitting up slowly, propping himself on his elbows, his eyebrows knitted together in concern.

Natalie was out of bed, scrambling across the room to her laptop, which she flipped open and tapped her fingers impatiently on her desk waiting for it to boot up. "Drums. The sound I keep hearing, it's drums."

As the whir of her computer filled the room, Dean slipped out of bed behind her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her, his body rubbing close to hers. He buried his nose in her hair, nuzzling gently. "What sound, baby?"

"Stop," she murmured, waving him away absentmindedly clicking on files in her drive, her brow wrinkled in concentration. "I don't need your distraction right now. I'm serious. Drums." She double clicked on a video file and the sound of powwow drums filled her room. The constant, steady beat was exactly what she had been hearing the past few nights.  _Bum, bum, bum-bum. Slow, slow, quick-quick._ Spinning to face Dean, her eyes wide, she said with eagerness, "I keep hearing drums!"

When Dean's face remained perplexed, she sighed in exasperation. "The night we came back from the...hunt, I heard something, and I couldn't figure it out. It's like every time I'm by myself, or my room is quiet, they're there. And the past couple days, it's been getting louder and louder. I'm hearing drums." Her voice rose in excitement as she explained herself, her hands fluttering around her face. "I thought I was going crazy, but it's just powwow drums. What I don't understand, though, is why I keep hearing them." She paused, her voice unsure of itself suddenly. "And why you can't."

Dean sat down on the edge of Natalie's bed, chewing his lip in concentration. "I don't know. I've never heard of this." His eyes flicked up to meet hers, "Then again, I've never really had much to do with Native tribes over all. I wonder if our killing...her on tribal ground did something?"

Natalie sat down on her desk chair slowly, her fingers running through the ends of her hair absentmindedly. "Dean," she started softly, her voice barely a whisper, "Do you think I can hear them because I'm the one that killed her?"

"Maybe," he conceded, his brow furrowed in concern and thought. The steady beat of the drums filled the room, and Natalie tapped her feet to the secondary beat of the dance steps. "Maybe the only reason you're hearing something is because it directly affects you. This was your mom-"

"Not my mom."

"Sorry. Biological mom. And going through something like that...It's really traumatic. I had nightmares for weeks after my first kill."

"It's not a nightmare," Natalie said acidly. "It's real. I hear it all the time. And then it stops. It comes and goes. And I'm always awake. It's never in my dreams. This is  _real_  Dean."

"Okay," he said softly, raising his hands in defense. "It's not a nightmare. But I don't know what it is." There was a beat of silence between the two, then, "Have you ever heard of something like this happening to anyone in your tribe before?"

"I don't know. There's nothing in our lore about it as far as I know...Maybe it's not bad. Sometimes drums are a good thing! Let me check which song this is."

Natalie turned back to her computer, hovering over the video to show the title. When her eyes slid across the words, her face blanched.

When she spoke, it was barely above a whisper. So quiet, Dean had to lean forward to hear her. "Four Step War Dance."

There was a beat and then they both spoke at the same time, "Sam."

Natalie tore out of her room, Dean on her heels, to the room across the hall. Natalie banged on the door several times, calling through the hinges, "Sam? Sam! Wake up. I need to talk to you. Please."

After several long minutes, a bleary eyed Sam opened the door partially, revealing a bare chest and a blanket slung across his hips. Blushing, Natalie cleared her throat and looked at the ceiling, trying desperately to ignore Dean's smirk and Sam's grin. "When you're...good, can you meet us in the kitchen? Bring your birthday present."

"The book or Krysten?"

"Oh my god!" Natalie chided, rolling her eyes.

Turning on her heel to march down the hallway, she pretended she didn't hear Sam and Dean's high five. "Boys," she murmured, rolling her eyes.

"...so we need to know if there's anything in your book about hearing powwow drums after killing someone on native land."

Sam's eyes flashed to Dean's and they exchanged a look Natalie couldn't read. When no one spoke, she cleared her throat loudly.

"That's the thing," said Sam slowly, "There's nothing in here about killing someone on native land, other than curses or prayers said over tribal land during land runs and the time of the Indian Removal Act. I read through this book extensively last night. And in the one situation Dean and I worked with tribes before, the tribe didn't curse one person in particular, they cursed the land itself. I can try to contact a local tribal elder I met and see what I can find, but this is new."

"Okay," Natalie said slowly, drawing in a shaking breath. The reality, or the lack of reality really, was pounding through her head. If she had been cursed for killing her flesh and blood, then that would explain why no one else could hear it. But if Sam and Dean, the two that knew all about all things supernatural, had no idea about this, then it couldn't be a curse, could it? A tribal elder would have to know. And if no one knew, then no one knew how to stop it. And no one knew what came next. The thought terrified Natalie. "So...What do I do in the meantime?"

"Just lay low," Dean answered, reaching across the table to take Natalie's hand in his own. "See if you can find anything through a basic google search. We'll go talk to some people, get some answers, and come back. Your apartment is salt lined, and you have our numbers. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. I promise."

"And," Sam added, a devilish grin spreading across his face, "Your cousin's still here too."

Sam dodged Natalie's fist as it swung towards his bicep, laughing heartily. And despite the fear seeping into her bones, Natalie laughed too.

Krysten and Natalie were curled on her bed, watching some arbitrary, light-hearted rom-com, when the sound of drums started again. Sam and Dean had only been gone for about an hour, leaving Krysten with strict instructions to call them if the sound started again. Natalie's job was to look out the windows, to see if she could see anything in particular causing the noise.

She had searched databases and google alike for hours, and the closest she came to finding anything was a Native Lore about Coyote resurrecting a dead village after killing the monster that had decimated the people. But nothing about natives killing each other and curses that followed.

When Krysten didn't look up from her phone screen, Natalie tapped her knee and whispered, "Do you hear them?"

The two sat up, Krysten pausing the movie, while Natalie strained in the sudden silence to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. Krysten's face showed her doubt, and Natalie fought the urge to snap at her. The sound was building, so loud she could feel the drumbeat in her chest, in her fingertips. "Call Sam and Dean," she whispered as she slid off the bed, edging her way carefully towards her window.

Standing in the corner of her room ,between her closet and her window, she realized how wrong she had been. The noise wasn't coming from her closet. It was coming from right outside. Natalie drew in a deep breath for courage and reached towards her blinds with shaking hands.

_There's not going to be anything there. There's not going to be anything there. There's not going to be anything there._

Behind her, Natalie heard Krysten whispering to Sam about her. About hearing the drums that weren't there. In a huff of frustration, Natalie clenched the blind cords in her fist and yanked them down to open the blinds with a jolt of anger. She paused for a moment as her brown eyes stared into the fiery eyes of the Native drummer outside the window. And then she screamed. And then the world went dark.

Thirty minutes later, Natalie was sitting against her headboard, her knees pulled to her chest, staring at the open window. The summer sun cast a hazy glow on her bedroom floor, and the trees outside her window swayed gently in the hot breeze. Her eyes focused unblinkingly on the window sill, still lined in salt. Krysten sat a few feet away in her desk chair, chewing her nails and bouncing her leg nervously against the legs. There was a gentle knock on the bedroom door, and both girls jumped. Krysten crossed the room quickly and opened Natalie's door, sighing in relief when she saw Sam. Natalie glanced from the window sill to the hallway, and when she didn't see Dean's form, flicked them back to the windowsill.

She could hear Sam and Krysten murmuring about her.

"She hasn't said anything since I called you," Krysten murmured, crossing her arms across her chest.

Sam's hands rubbed up and down Krysten's arms and he whispered back, "What'd she say before that?"

"Just that she heard the drums, and then she opened the window blinds and screamed." Krysten hesitated, "But...Sam…"

Silence filled the room. Natalie determinedly did not look at either one, pretending she couldn't hear their voices just feet away. Pretending that the eyes she had stared into outside her window weren't the eyes of a warrior. Pretending that she hadn't heard the word he yelled over the beating of his drums and the screaming from her mouth.

_Abi_

_Abi_

_Abi_

_Murder_

_Murder_

_Murder_

There was a shuffling in the hallway and Natalie heard Dean's voice rumble across the span of silence. And then he was there, on her bed, pulling her against his chest, petting her hair, calling her princess.

"What happened?" he whispered against her hair.

Unblinkingly, Natalie recounted the incident. Drumming. Opening the blinds. The warrior, just on the other side of the glass, his brown eyes glaring into hers. His shout over the beat of the drum. Her screams. The nothingness. Glancing at Dean's worried face, she caught a glimpse of Krysten's face behind him. She looked...sad.

And suddenly, a wave of anger flooded through Natalie's veins. "What the fuck is your problem?!" she snapped at her cousin, causing shock to ripple across the faces of all present.

Jerking out of Dean's grasp and sliding off the end of the bed to stand, Natalie glared at Krysten, her fists clenched. "You pretended not to hear the drums, you keep whispering to Sam about me, and now you're looking at me like I'm crazy. So please, tell me, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Krysten stared, wide eyed, unable to speak before turning to Sam with a helpless shrug. Sam in turn, looked at Dean, his puppy eyes sad. And Dean...well, Dean turned towards Natalie with such a beautiful smile, she felt her heart explode.

"She just wasn't paying attention baby, it's okay." Dean stood up, opening his arms and taking careful steps across the room toward her. "I know you're scared. But we're all here for you. You don't need to worry."

As Dean's arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her towards him, she heard the steady beat of the drums begin again. It was getting more and more frequent, louder and louder, so often now that her body instantly broke out in goosebumps. She shivered in Dean's arms and buried her nose in his chest, breathing deeply, refusing to look at the window. "They're back."

Dean tightened his arms around her, and drew in a sharp breath, breathing in the scent of rose on her skin, but over her head, his eyes met Sam's. An unspoken connection was explained, and Sam slipped out of the room, dragging Krysten with him.

Dean's hands, unwrapped from Natalie's shoulders, and his fingertips brushed against her jaw as he tilted her face to look up at him. His green eyes searched her brown for a moment, before he lowered his head to kiss her. When his lips met hers, and his fingers dug into the base of her neck, Natalie could feel the urgency radiating out of his skin. Grasping the lapels of his jacket, she pulled him impossibly close.

When Dean finally pulled back, Natalie was gasping for breath, her cheeks flushed. Dean brushed a thumb across Natalie's cheek, then kissed her forehead chastely.

"Here's what Sam and I worked out," he said softly, settling on Natalie's bed, and pulling her down to sit with her back pressed to his chest. Wrapping his arms around her and sighing heavily, he murmured, "We have a friend, Dr. Hall. He knows exactly what to do to help you, and Sam and I are more than willing to drive you there. But…" He stopped.

Natalie leaned forward so that she could turn to look at Dean's face. His eyes wouldn't meet hers and she felt a lump form in her throat.

"But you're not staying."

Dean's eyes filled with sorrow and apology. "Natalie, we can't."

Tears filled her eyes, but she nodded, focusing her gaze on his hands that clasped hers tightly. They got each other. The connection she felt to Dean was stronger than anything she had felt with anyone else, ever, period. He would be back for her, someday, surely. "Promise me something," she whispered softly.

Dean nodded, squeezing her small hand in his.

"Just don't forget me, okay?"

"I could never."

Natalie shivered in the sudden burst of cool air as she stepped through the double doors of the grey stone building, Sam and Dean behind her. She and Krysten had talked for a moment before she left, apologized to each other, and parted ways with a promise to meet up soon. Cousins as close as sisters, they never stayed angry with each other long. Dean quickened his pace and fell in step with Natalie, catching her hand in his. He squeezed it gently, keeping his gaze focused on the welcome desk in the middle of the hallway.

Tugging Natalie towards the elevators while Sam stopped to ask for directions to Dr. Hall's office, Dean leaned down and whispered in Natalie's ear, "This place gives me the creeps."

Giggling, she smacked him softly on the arm, pretending she didn't see the sadness behind his grin.

The trio entered the elevator and Sam punched the button for the seventh floor. Natalie and Dean whispered under their breath. When the doors opened, Natalie frowned.

"What's Bonnie doing here?"

Sam and Dean exchanged frowns as Natalie let go of Dean's hand to walk towards her roommate.

"Bonnie?"

"Hey, Natalie."

"What's going on? Why are you here?"

"I've been here," she said simply, smiling at Natalie. She tilted her head slightly, her short hair tickling her chin. Her blue eyes sparkled as she grinned at Dean. "He's cute. Who's he?"

"Oh, Jesus," Natalie murmured, turning red and rolling her eyes. "Ignore her," she told Dean, who stared at Natalie quizzically. "Dean, Bonnie. Bonnie, Dean. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a meeting. I'll see you later!"

Natalie turned back to the boys. Dean's face was impassive, but Sam looked sad as he slid his phone back into his pocket. "Sorry! I didn't mean to leave you out," Natalie said hurriedly, turning back to face Bonnie. But Bonnie wasn't there. Turning back to face Sam and Dean, her dark hair spinning around her shoulders, she frowned. "Where'd-?"

"Come on, Princess," Dean said softly, wrapping an arm around Natalie's shoulders. Following Sam down the hallway to a glass office, a white-haired man sat behind his desk, typing furiously on his keyboard. When he caught a glimpse of the three in his peripherals, he smiled and stood, waving for them to come in.

"You must be Natalie," he said kindly, reaching out to shake her hand. His grey eyes were kind, and his hand was warm when it met hers. Gesturing for the three to take a seat, he closed the door behind them, then returned to the chair behind his desk. Leaning back with his hands clasped and resting on his desk, he said kindly, "Why don't you tell me what's been going on? Sam here tells me you've been dealing with some...noises."

Natalie cast a worried glance at Dean who nodded for her to go ahead. Sam said softly from the chair on her left, "We trust Dr. Hall. You can tell him. It's okay."

Natalie swallowed hard past the lump in her throat and nodded slowly, before launching into her story. The creepy feeling leaving the diner a few nights ago. The flickering lights. The black-eyed children. Sam and Dean's arrival and promise to stay to figure out what was going on. The execution of the thing that had been a person years ago, but spiraled into something much darker. And then the drums. The Native drummer.

She conveniently omitted all the sex with Dean.

When she finished, out of breath and sweating from nerves, Dr. Hall merely nodded as if he had heard this all before.

"I see," he said kindly, reaching for his phone. Tapping a quick message, he put his phone down and said softly, "I think, Natalie, that we're going to be able to help you. You'll need to consent to stay for a bit, because I don't believe you're a harm to yourself or others."

"Okay," Natalie replied softly, her eyes flicking to Dean's.

"Okay," Dr. Hall responded, just as softly. He nodded to someone over her shoulder as Sam and Dean stood up. Confusion colored Natalie's features as she turned to see who Dr. Hall was nodding at. Two large orderlies entered the room and stood guard, ready to walk Natalie to a room.

"Natalie," Dr. Hall said calmly, his voice unwavering. "You're showing classic symptoms of schizophrenia. Now, I've worked closely with Sam and Dean. I don't doubt what happened with your biological mother. But the drummer? He's not real. And neither is Bonnie. Or Clara."

"But-" Natalie blanched. "They  _are_  real...I live with Bonnie and Clara. Bonnie was  **here**." Her voice rose in pitch with each sentence. Her dark eyes flashed to Dean, pleading, "Dean. You saw Bonnie. Tell him."

Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat and knelt down in front of Natalie, taking her small hands in his. "I didn't. She wasn't there."

Natalie wrenched her hands out of his, leaping to her feet, "Yes she was!"

"Natalie," Dr. Hall started, raising a hand slowly in an attempt to settle her.

"Don't," she said hurriedly, taking a step back. Fear seeping into her eyes. "I'm not crazy. I-I study psychology. I'm not having hallucinations, they're real."

"Natalie," Sam said softly, pulling a phone out of his pocket. "I took a video of your conversation with Bonnie."

He pushed play, and Natalie watched herself talk to a wall. Tears filled her eyes, and she sank back down in the chair, wrapping her arms around herself. Rocking back and forth slowly, she whispered, "No. No. No."

Dean stood up and touched the top of Natalie's head gently, letting his hand slide over her hair. "It's going to be okay. Dr. Hall...He's great. He'll make sure that you're okay."

Natalie stared at the floor, unblinking, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

"Natalie?" he said softly. When she didn't respond, he tried again. "Nat." Nothing.

With a sigh, he stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets. This snapped Natalie out of her reverie, and she gasped as if she had been dunked in icy water. Leaping back up so quickly her chair teetered, she grabbed Dean's lapels and pulled him close to her, pleading, her words thick with fear and anxiety.

"Please, Dean. Please don't leave me here. I promise, I'll do anything."

There was a flurried shuffle and the orderlies stepped forward to pull Natalie off of Dean while Dean fought to untangle her hands from his jacket. Dr. Hall was speaking loudly, but calmly about how safe and taken care of Natalie would be.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered as he and Sam began stepping out of the office.

The dam broke and Natalie let out the wail of a wounded animal, fighting the orderlies with all her strength, "Dean, please," she implored, yelling after his retreating figure, "Please! DEAN."

Dean Winchester walked the length of the hallway a full pace ahead of Sam, who tried desperately to get Dean to talk to him. His green eyes sparkled with tears and he grit his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. Punching the button for the elevator, he stepped on and shoved his hand in his pocket, feeling his fist close around the medallion Natalie had given him. And as the doors closed, he heard her voice scream his name down the hall.

"Dean! Dean!"

"Dean!"

Dean jerked up with a start, a lump in his throat and an ache in his chest. Green eyes flicking around the musty room, he let out a heavy breath and ran a hand over his face.

"You good?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because you were muttering in your sleep. You kept saying sorry."

Dean frowned, already trying to remember what his dream had been. Something about a girl. He had already forgotten her face and her name. He knew she had been upset, distraught, and he could feel the guilt down to his bones, but he couldn't place why. She was angry...betrayed...Because he and Sam had done...something? Shaking his head to clear it, he let out a heavy sigh and dropped back against the pillow. As the scent of roses floated around his face, he suddenly remembered.

Jumping out of bed, he crossed the room to sit down across of Sam, "Sammy. Natalie. Natalie Lyons. Does that name ring a bell?"

There was a beat of silence before Sam shook his head slowly. "Not that I remember. Why?"

Dean let out a sigh of relief and leaned back against the back of the chair. "Because I just had the craziest dream."

As Dean launched into the story of the Native girl from Oklahoma, the boys began packing up the room to head out. Sam paused every now and then to interject arguments about his lack of role in the story, and Dean laughed as he threw his bag into the trunk of the impala and slammed it shut.

"All I'm saying is I woke up feeling absolutely sure that I had abandoned some girl that I really liked at a mental hospital and walked away while she screamed for me to come back for her," Dean sighed as he started Baby. Then he paused, "Wait a second!"

Digging through the pockets of his jeans, he pulled out an assortment of items. Credit cards, IDs, change, a few one dollar bills. Then he sighed with relief.

"In my dream," he explained to a curious Sam, "Natalie gave me this...medallion with a Native phrase on it. It meant always. But I don't have it, so that confirms it. Just a dream."

Meanwhile, as Dean threw the car into reverse and spun out of the gravel parking lot, the medallion ,that had fallen out of Dean's closed fist while he slept and rolled until the bed, lay waiting in the dust.


End file.
